Picking Up Broken Pieces
by Ponchygirl
Summary: Part 2 of the Broken Pieces Series. After the events from All the Broken Pieces, Jon, Ponch and everyone are dealing with their feelings over everything. Some are not coping as well as others. Warning for suicide, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and mental illness. Must read All the Broken Pieces first!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is part two in the Broken Pieces series. Part one is All the Broken Pieces and should be read before reading this. (for backstory reasons) _

**_L.A. July 2015_**

"It never crossed my mind that I would have to bury my best friend...that my heart would still beat... the world still turn...life would go on. It never crossed my mind…" CHP officer Jon Baker sniffled, as he wiped at the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "It doesn't feel real...I wake up each morning expecting to meet up before work...or to find hundreds of missed calls, because I slept in...or having to call him because HE slept in." Jon shook his head, before speaking again. "I go into work, hoping to find him, laughing with a fellow officer...there's an emptiness inside…" Jon wiped at his eyes, but more tears came. "It's not right..." He'd tried hard not to cry. But how could he not? It wasn't worth the fight, he had to cry...but he had never wanted to sit here in his apartment crying with his fellow officers...and sergeant. "He took good care of me, why couldn't I return the favor?"

Sergeant Joe Getraer hadn't seen his officer cry this much...ever. He had been trying to keep from crying himself, but the tears came. He had to allow himself to cry, so the others knew it was okay. Being men they had grown up always hearing 'real men don't cry' or something to that extent. But to not cry over the loss of a dear friend would be inhuman. Joe sat in a chair across from Jon's couch in his apartment.

Next to Jon sat an uncharacteristically quiet Arthur Grossman. On the floor by the couch sat Barry Baricza, eyes red and tear stained. In a chair beside Joe's, Jeb Turner who like almost everyone else was also quiet. They had gathered to be there for Jon... but really sitting together was doing good for all of them. Even though it was only a small handful of officers, it was still enough to support each other.

"Joe, I want him back," Jon cried, only talking to Joe still. Jon reached for the tissue box. "28, Joe! He was only 28!" He shook his head feeling sick just thinking about it. "What happened? I thought..." he bit his lip. "I thought he was okay..."

Joe listened to Jon as he cried. Tears slid down his own cheeks, but he said nothing.

"Why'd he do it?" Jon continued. Since they had arrived, they had heard Jon repeating the same questions over and over. They wondered the same, but no one spoke up. "Every day I wonder if there was anything I could have done to change what happened...it had to be my fault! I missed all the signs, or any signs if there was something...he was my best friend, how could I have been so blind!?...I could have helped him... but I didn't…" he let out another loud sob. "I didn't help him!" He cried. "Sarge, if I'd have done something he would still be here! Why didn't I help him!?"

Getraer shook his head. "It's not your fault, Jon." He choked back a sob. "It's mine..." He wiped at his eyes. "I was too hard on him. I'm too hard on everyone..."

Grossie shook his head. "That's not it. Gary could handle you. We can all handle you, even though we occasionally joke you'll kill us..." Grossie paused knowing that last bit didn't help much. He had been staying quiet for a good reason. He cleared his throat. "It wasn't you that caused this. I feel like I am partially to blame. I could tell something was off by how he interacted with others the last few weeks leading up to-"

"Grossie, I don't want to hear it" Bear cut him off. "I should have done something."

"You didn't know," Jeb said, finally talking for the first time since he'd gotten to Jon's apartment.

"I knew something was off!" Bear snapped. "I should have said something! I figured he was just tired... but the next day... when he didn't show up for work... I knew I messed up." He buried his face in his hands.

Joe shook his head. "It's not your fault, Barry."

Jon looked at his sergeant, he could see the look in his eyes. The look of self-blame. "Joe..." He started… then shook his head. "Joe, no. It's not your fault…"

"I- I saw him…" Jeb said quietly, bringing the attention of everyone back towards him. "Before he did it...he said he was done...I cracked a joke that didn't go over well at all…" Jeb shook his head. "When I went home I got to thinking. Hours later I could just sense something was wrong...I called and he didn't answer. I thought...I thought he was asleep, but I couldn't shake that feeling something was messed up...I called Grossie and we went over..." Jeb stopped. "I'd never prepared myself to see so much blood on his apartment floor when I entered... When I close my eyes it's all I think of. I should have said something...I shouldn't have made a joke. I should have visited sooner..." he squeezed his eyes shut, letting tears slid down his cheeks, but he was too afraid to see the faces of his friends. "He was still alive when we showed up...but it was too late. Gary's gone...it's my fault."

Jon stared at the wall now. "I wish there was a way to bring him back...I keep expecting him to come show up any minute now and tell us to stop crying..." He muttered something under his breath. It finally hit him what Jeb said. "Jeb, Gary's death wasn't your fault. He could handle a joke...even on a bad day. It wasn't your fault..."

"Then who's fault is it!?" Barry asked.

"I don't know! But it's not yours, or Jeb's, or Joe's...or Grossie's...or mine. I don't know who's fault it is! Or what happened...only Gary knows. Blaming yourself isn't helping anything."

"Bold words for someone who's been blaming himself this whole time," Grossie muttered.

"Shut up, Grossie!"

The room grew silent. Each officer lost in their own thoughts. Each silently blaming himself.

"Never again..." Jon muttered. "I'll never let this happen again..."

Joe looked at his officers. He wasn't sure if this was the right time to say it, but now was as good a time as any. He'd have to say it again in briefing when he faced the rest of his officers. "I know you're all hurting. I understand. He was one of my best officers, and he was my friend. But I'm going to say this once, and if I have to repeat myself I will. If any one of you are thinking about hurting yourself, or considering suicide...don't keep it to yourself."

The officers nodded, but couldn't find the words to say...there was nothing left to say.


	2. Chapter 2

**_L.A. March 2011_**

_Sixteen year old Frank Poncherello tossed and turned, his heart racing. Waking up from yet another nightmare, he sat up. His face was sticky with a cold sweat, mixed with tears. The palms of his hands also sticky from sweat. He rubbed them shakily against his pajama pants to get some of the moisture off. Then he heard the door start to creak open to his room, he jumped._

_He heard a familiar laugh that was from his oldest brother twenty-two year old Robert Poncherello. "Scare you?" he asked, walking in, he sat on the edge of the bed._

_"Rob, it's three in the morning-" Ponch started, though he was grateful to see his brother. He wiped at his eyes, trying to pretend like he hadn't woke up crying again. He couldn't help it. _

_Robert shrugged. "I don't care," he stated, cutting him off. __He tried not to let any tears fall as they filled his eyes. "I was worried about you... I could hear you crying. I..." he stopped, wrapping his arms around his little brother. "It's cliche to say 'everything is going to be okay.' I know it won't be the same. But I'll try to be around as much as I can. You can talk to me-"_

_Ponch pulled away. "But you're not Dad, Rob! You can't just quit school, and come back to try to pick up the pieces..." Ponch shook his head, wiping at his eyes. _

_Robert let out a quiet sigh. "I know...I know, and I'm not trying to fix everything. All I'm saying is I'm here." _

_"I appreciate it..but I don't need you. I just want my- our dad back." _

_**L.A. March 2018**_

Ponch followed Jon into the station, going on about how Jon needed to get better sleeping habits. "Every time I get online, you're up too!"

Jon chuckled softly. "Maybe you need better sleep habits too then, Ponch?"

Ponch laughed and shook his head. "I sleep just fine. How many hours did you get last night?"

Jon thought for a moment. "Five?"

"Good thing you're only working a half shift!" Ponch replied, walking past him to head for the break room. He didn't ask why Jon was only working a half shift, but Jon knew the question would be coming eventually. It was only a matter of time.

Jon headed for the break room to keep his partner out of trouble. It had been three years since Gary's death. Jon was still a mess inside, but attempted to keep himself well put together on the outside. His fellow officers who had been there could see right through him. Especially today. Today marked exactly three years. It wasn't something anyone could fully recover from.

Jon had spent the last few years hiding from the truth, still not having accepted the cause of his death.

Jon shouldn't have even shown up for work today...but he knew he had to. They couldn't be short an officer. However it would have been better to be short an officer than have one who wasn't thinking straight. He spent last night convincing Getraer that he was fine. That he could handle today. He wasn't so sure when he got up that morning. But as soon as he saw Ponch, he knew he had to be okay. For Ponch's sake. Jon was too afraid to let Ponch see him at his worst. Keeping up this image had been important to him, he hadn't taken into consideration Ponch might do the same.

Ponch went into the break room, walking in on a conversation between Grossie and Jeb about Gary.

"I can't believe it's been three years," Jeb said, shaking his head. "It still feels like yesterday."

"Three years since what?" Ponch asked, sticking himself into the conversation just like any other officer would.

Grossie and Jeb glanced at him. "Jon hasn't told you? It was his partner-" Grossie started.

Jon walked in then, Ponch looked at Jon and somehow just in that one glance he knew what today was for them. "Oh...I'm sorry." It had completely slipped his mind what today was. He knew something was bothering Jon, but hadn't found the words to nag him about it. Now he didn't have to.

"I still don't understand why it happened. Three years and I still don't get it. He was such a happy guy," Grossie commented.

"What does his happiness have to do with his accident? Happiness didn't kill him...it was a car accident. Right?" Ponch asked, looking at Jon.

Jon could see the confusion in his partners eyes. There was no way he would change the story he had told. Talking about how his best friend committed suicide wasn't something Jon ever wanted to be open about. He convinced himself it would just be better to pretend it wasn't suicide.

Grossie opened his mouth to say something, but Jon spoke first. "Right..."

"I'm sorry, Baker." Ponch put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I know this isn't an easy day for you, but we'll get through this together, alright?" He forced a small smile, trying to be reassuring. He would do all he could to make sure Jon could make it through the day, and he was always willing to listen if Jon needed to talk.

Jon just nodded, having a hard time finding the words to say.

Ponch got his ding dongs then headed off for briefing. He would have stayed, but he was getting the feeling that the other officers needed a moment to talk without him. He hadn't known Gary, but from what he heard he knew he was a good friend, and good officer. He hurt for their loss, knowing how hard it was to lose someone that meant so much to you..and how unexpected it was. More than anything though, he hurt because his best friend was hurting and there wasn't really anything to do, but offer comforting words and a shoulder to cry on.

As soon as Ponch left, Grossie looked at Jon. "What was that? Did you lie to him about Gary's death?" Grossie honestly wasn't all to surprised. He had guessed Jon would be the type to hide something like that. However he didn't expect him to hide it from Ponch. As close as Jon had been with Gary, he was closer to Ponch. Grossie had been under the impression there weren't any secrets kept between the two Well, that was aside from one he knew of.

Jon always seemedto know Ponch's business and Ponch knew Jon's. Grossie would have been in shock if he knew just how much the friends didn't know about each other.

"Well how would you feel telling someone your partner committed suicide!?" Jon snapped. "Hey, I got your back... but uh I couldn't catch that my own best friend wanted to die!" Jon looked away.

"Jon, you can't lie to him. Ponch'll understand. It wasn't your fault. No one saw it coming. I didn't even see it!"

"I can't..." Jon shook his head. "I can't tell him." He felt angry both at Gary and himself. When he had told Ponch about Gary, he didn't expect it to be so hard. After Gary's funeral he hadn't talked about him much at all for a while. Just bringing up his name made him angry. How could he have left everyone behind? Why couldn't he have gotten help? Why couldn't he have told anyone?

"Jon, you're still mad his death was suicide?"

"His _death _never should have happened! He should still be here! He could have talked to me! He could have gotten help! He didn't have to-"

"Jon, think about it this way. If Gary were still here, you probably never would have been in a cruiser the day you met Ponch. So you probably never would have. Someone else... maybe Bear? And do you think Ponch would be here today if it were Barry that found him?"

Jon gave Grossie a look. "Ponch probably would have ended up here some way or another. And Gary didn't have to die to make the rest of my life events fall into place!" Jon bit his lip there was more to the story, something Grossie would never know. Gary wasn't even dead yet the day he met Ponch...

"I'm not saying he did! But think about it-"

Jon shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to." He walked out and headed for briefing. Three years and it still felt like yesterday, as Jeb had said. The pain had never eased up, in fact with each day Jon could feel it growing worse. Yet there were still many things to keep him going. He couldn't help but wish Gary were still around to help him out with everything like he used to.

oOoOo

The day seemed to breeze by rather quickly. As the day went on, Ponch noticed more and more how Jon wasn't doing so great. He understood why, but wasn't sure what to say to help him out. Which was unlike him. He usually knew exactly what to say. But honestly he was going through something too. Yesterday had marked exactly seven years from the day that Ponch's father had committed suicide.

Ponch still didn't get it... and probably never would. But he could never get the image out of his mind, the day he came home to find his father on the floor...dead. It had been seven years and he still didn't want to believe it happened.

Ponch and Jon sat at a table for lunch, but didn't eat. A plate sat in front of each of them. The plates containing untouched burgers and fries. Both officers had took the break for lunch, but didn't feel like eating.

Jon stared at his food. While Ponch took a plastic fork and poked his food to death.

"Alright, you tell me what's bothering you. I'll tell you what's on my mind," Jon said finally. He couldn't stand it when Ponch was this quiet.

"You go first," Ponch replied, not even breaking his gaze at the now cold plate of food. He didn't want to share his pain with Jon. He would have much rather been listening to Jon talk. It was easier this way. He wouldn't have to bring up the pain of the past that he still carried around with him. The pain he'd tried to hide from. Run from... the pain that had finally caught up and slowly pulled him down each day.

Jon sighed. "Gary...I miss him."

Ponch nodded. "Not to sound like Grossman...but that makes sense. Missing him, being upset however you feel even three years later. It's a natural response."

Jon nodded, but said nothing. _He's right...but he still doesn't understand the extent of it. _He thought, biting his lip. _Do I tell him? _He shook his head.

It grew silent again.

Ponch had accidentally broken his fork while Jon was talking. He dropped it on the plate for a minute, but then took the sharper end of the fork, and stabbed it into the burger, causing ketchup to slide down the sides outside the burger.

_What was that all about? _Jon wondered, watching Ponch actually murder his hamburger. "What's eating you?" Jon asked, reminding Ponch his end of the deal.

Ponch sighed. He pulled the fork out of the burger, and set aside. He gave Jon an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for that..." he said, motioning to the hamburger, then he stood up to throw away his uneaten meal.

Jon stood with him, following him to the trash. "Ponch, we made a deal," he said, throwing his food away too. _What a waste..._he thought sadly, as he dumped the plate.

"I miss my Dad..." Ponch said quietly, having never opened up about it before to anyone outside of family. He didn't give Jon a chance to respond, he walked off for his bike.

Jon watched him walk off, trying to figure out if he meant his Dad was still alive and he wanted to visit but couldn't or his Dad was gone. He went to his bike, and got on. He looked at Ponch. "Ponch?"

Ponch sighed. "I don't get it. I still don't get it. Seven years later, and I still don't understand why he killed himself. Jon, it makes no sense no matter what way you look at it! And why would he leave his family like that!?" Ponch said, as he strapped his helmet on.

Jon's eyes widened. "Ponch, your Dad, he...uh committed suicide?" Jon couldn't believe it. He almost wanted to tell the truth about Gary, but knew it was a bad time now. But maybe he would understand?

A single tear slid down Ponch's cheek, as he started his motorcycle. He caught it right away, wiping his eyes before putting his gloves on. "Let's talk about something else, huh?" he glanced at Jon, while he slipped his sunglasses on. "I've done a good enough job keeping that in all day. I just need a few more hours..."

Jon couldn't believe this. It almost made him angry. Actually...it did make him angry. "Ponch, why are you doing this to yourself?"

Ponch glanced at him, but his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, Jon couldn't tell what his reaction really was.

Jon let out a sigh. "Why are you putting yourself through a full shift, when you aren't-"

"Someone's gotta do it," Ponch said cutting him off. "I'm capable of keeping myself together out here. Better than I would be if I were stuck at home all day." Ponch shrugged. "It keeps me busy. You can relate, I'm sure. Why else would you have shown up today?" He didn't wait for Jon to respond, he pulled out of the parking lot, and headed for the street. There was more to it than that, but how could he tell Jon? Hadn't he shared enough?

Jon caught up fast. "You call stabbing your hamburger to death keeping yourself together?"

"I didn't see you eating your hamburger."

_He's right..._ Jon shook his head. "I didn't stab it to death though!"

"Would you quit saying that? It wasn't alive, I couldn't stab it to death..."

Jon sighed. "You know what I mean though. You didn't eat anything. That's not a sign of someone who is just fine."

"You didn't eat either." Ponch changed lanes, getting away from this conversation.

Jon followed.

"You only have a half shift. You've been here longer than you need to be."

Jon sighed. "Might as well take a full shift. You shouldn't be out here alone."

"Jon, I'll be fine." Ponch forced a small smile that almost seemed real to Jon for a second. But he knew it couldn't have been. He already made up his mind he was staying. What was he going to do when he got home anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: To those who have already been reading, I updated chapter 2 and added a tiny bit more. So you might want to look back there before reading on. It's not a huge difference, but it's still a small thing added. :) Also to anyone who is dealing with mental illness or suicidal thoughts or have in the past; I'm here for you. My PM is open if you need to talk, but also don't be afraid to reach out to professionals and someone who can help. Personally I know how terrifying it is to admit there is a problem, or to reach out to someone for help...but I will never regret it. As someone who deals with anxiety and depression I get it. I am always here to lend an ear to listen. I won't judge you. I'm here for you. 3 **_

_**Also just a warning this chapter contains mention of self-harm. **_

_**~Ponchy **_

_Blade to my skin...blood trickles down. Comforting for a mere five minutes. I said I would stop. I was wrong. __The physical pain is temporary. It can't take away the mental pain. It only distracts me from it. My body is a canvas, a blade the paint brush. I am no artist...I have the scars to prove it. _

_If I found my friends like this, I'd do anything I could to fix it...I'd never give up on them. But I'm not my own friend. I've given up on myself. _

_I'm a mess._

_Questions plagued my mind. __Questions I am too afraid to ask. I am chicken. I'm angry. So angry. At myself...my life...my family. Life wasn't supposed to be like this. What did **I **do wrong? Why can't I save people? Even as a cop, I can't save people...why can't I save people? Why couldn't I save my Dad? What happened to him? Wasn't have a loving family...a good job...loving friends...wasn't it enough? If only I could ask him...but even if I do see him again...will I be able to ask him? Can I? _

_Every night I'm alone, I lay awake asking the same questions. Wondering the same things. Still never receiving an answer. I've tried every distraction...people...places...things...and now I'm stuck on this one thing. This one simple feeling. Inflicting pain on yourself is...it's wrong...but why does it help? Why does it feel like the answer...it's a temporary fix, a terrible fix...but it's not as permanent as death. I've thought about it, but...what if even death can't fix everything? _

_Why can't I relax. I can't walk into my home-_

He stopped suddenly, he couldn't continue the sentence it was too difficult.

The words wrote their self, his hand helping the pencil along. Glaring at the words it wasn't long before the page was crumbled, and carefully set aside. So the action wouldn't disturb the person writing across from him. '_Why am I here?'_ He hadn't ever been much of a writer, only a few failed attempts to help encourage his friend who had been writing. Every time he stopped and glanced at the pages it was like reading a page written by a stranger. This couldn't be his own thoughts, could it? Yeah he knew he was hurting...he'd never been good at verbally expressing that. He'd heard people say that sometimes the writer in you is better at expressing it. The writer in you was sometimes even more expressive than you ever would be. But at least the writer part of a person always knew how to express feeling and thoughts.

Bringing the pencil back to a brand new page, he hesitated. Only for a moment, taking a deep breath before writing again.

_Loneliness: craving something so small yet so powerful. A hug. Comfort._

'_oh you'll be fine.' They say...but they don't care. They don't know._

"I can't...I can't do this," he said quiet enough no one else would hear. The chair slid across the floor with ease, as he pushed himself away from the report table. The room was full with blank sheets of paper ready for reports to be written, along with tables chairs and one other person.

Ponch let out a long overdue sigh. Writing wasn't his first choice for expressing his feelings. He had dated a therapist once, and remembered her saying something about how for some people writing is easier than talking. It expresses what needs to be said. What is being felt... and even if no one else reads it, it helps process emotions. Since he had never planned on talking about his feelings he guessed writing might work out. Writing was hard and frustrating though. Sometimes he felt better other times he felt worse. The whole part about processing his feelings was the hard part. Even now ten years later he still wasn't sure how he felt about everything. There were so many things he wanted to ask his dad. So many things he would never understand, because he couldn't ask.

So many regrets. Like pushing his brother away instead of accepting the help he offered. Causing unnecessary drama in school, which landed him in the principals office more times than he could count. Getting in with the wrong crowd, which lead to a chaotic and horrible lifestyle...there were even some days when he regretted joining the CHP.

_If only I hadn't met Jon..._He thought, glancing to his partner who was busy writing a report with the new guy. He shook his head. _If I hadn't met Jon I'd be dead already..._

Jon looked up from his report. "Everything okay, partner?" he asked, though he could easily tell nothing was okay.

Hiding behind a fake smile, Ponch replied "Yeah, everything's fine, Jon." He stood, getting ready to leave the room and run away from another conversation.

Jon set his pencil down, and motioned to the now empty seat. "No it's not. Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

Ponch smiled again, it seemed more real than the last one. "Jon, I'm fine really."

Jon looked back to his report. "We can talk after these reports are done, I guess." He hoped by then Ponch would be in the mood to tell him what was really going on. The last couple days Jon couldn't shake the feeling he was being lied to. Ponch had been saying everything was fine or everything was going to be fine. He tried to act like his usual self, but Jon could see through it most the time. Even more so now that he knew about Ponch's Dad. The conversation they'd had didn't last for too long that day, and the next day at work Ponch tried to pretend it never happened. Jon tried to let it go, knowing Ponch didn't like sharing about his feelings unless it was his idea.

It had been a week now since that conversation. The next day Jon had been informed Grossie had an upcoming vacation. Which meant he didn't have time to ride with his partner who was on probation. This was also Getraer's way of saying he was sticking Bobby with Jon this week and Ponch was with another officer.

Bobby Nelson sat in the chair beside Jon, watching him write up the report. At least there was one thing that hadn't changed, his temporary partner still made him write the reports.

Nelson was only a year older than Ponch, but he had the same irritating talent for getting into trouble. Jon hoped he'd get better as time went on, but he'd already been there two years. Longer than Ponch, this of course made Jon worry.

"Doesn't seem like he's fine, want me to go ask?' Bobby asked, eagerly looking for a chance to do something to help Jon out. He felt the need to prove himself. Ever since he'd shown up it seemed as though Jon didn't believe in him. It was either that or he had a lot of other things on his mind. Bobby tended to lean more towards the first option.

Jon looked up to watch Ponch leave the room. He didn't bother asking where he was going, he just assumed Ponch would be going to grab a ding dong or something. He glanced at Bobby a moment. "No, he'll be fine.' _It's my job to look out for my partner, not yours. _Jon shook his head. Jon had known Ponch longer than what most people thought. He hoped whatever was going on had nothing to do with what he was thinking at that moment. Ponch couldn't have slipped back into old habits again, right?

"If you say so-' Bobby started.

"I'm only going to say this once, and I mean it. Butt out," Jon said, before turning his attention back to the report Bobby should have been helping with.

* * *

Ponch didn't dare take the risk of leaving what he had written sitting out in the trash or anywhere for someone else to get a hold of it. He picked up the crumbled up papers of jumbled thoughts, and carried them to put in his locker. He'd find something else to do with them later. Reaching his locker he hadn't noticed one paper had been dropped. The sound of it hitting the floor was so quiet no one would have heard. After putting them in a safe place, Ponch headed for the break room.

Entering the break room, he found Getraer at the vending machine, messing around. "Can you believe it, the machine ate my quarter," he complained.

Ponch forced a small smile. "Good thing it was yours and not mine. Now I don't have a quarter to waste."

Getraer gave him a look. "It wouldn't have been an issue if it had counted the quarter as 25 cents. But no. It ate it and I still don't have any money in there apparently."

"Maybe we can get Harlan to fix the machine...or we could break it open and take the food for free?" Ponch suggested.

Getraer gave Ponch a look. "Talk to Harlan. Let me know when it's fixed," he replied, walking past Ponch to go back to his office. "Oh and uh, Frank. When you're finished with that I want to talk to you."

"What did I do?"

Getraer chuckled, but didn't answer. As he walked towards his office he found a small crumbled up paper on the floor. Shaking his head and making a comment about how his officers were worse at leaving their trash around than even some people who were picked up for littering. He picked up the paper, and glanced it the word blood stuck out to him, he normally wasn't one to pry into people's personal business, but he had to know. Opening the paper and skimming over the words, his eyes widened. "Whose handwriting is this?" he asked himself, reading it again, he sat down hard in his chair when it dawned on him. He knew exactly whose handwriting that was. He cursed under his breath. _I hope this isn't what I think it is..._He thought, though he knew very well it was exactly what he thought it was.


	4. Chapter 4

Getraer sat at his desk, reading the paper over and over again. His mind screamed something was wrong, Ponch wasn't a writer for one. At least not that he knew of. There was no mistaking this was Ponch's handwriting. He had beautiful handwriting, it was his spelling that wasn't so great. Getraer was used to it by now.

Ponch also had a tendency for everything he wrote to become sloppy, if he wrote too fast. Which made his writing hard to read at times. This wasn't hard to read, at least most of it anyway.

Getraer continued to sit there, staring wondering how he was going to talk to Ponch. Did he already have another officer contemplating suicide? Whose fault was it? The job, or his? Getraer shook his head, knowing his officers would be quick to tell him it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help but feel as if it was. He was hard on his officers, it was his job. He knew before Gary's death things had been rough between them. Most of the time he and Gary had been on good terms, but when they weren't everyone suffered with them. Poncherello on the other hand, their relationship had always been up and down from the start. He knew Ponch wasn't fond of him a little over half the time, but he wasn't there to be his friend, he was his sergeant.

Getraer sighed, glancing at the paper again. This upcoming conversation hadn't been even close to what he originally wanted to say. He was going to ask Ponch to keep an eye on Jon. He had overheard Grossie and Jeb talking earlier about how Jon had been lying to Ponch about Gary's death. Getraer didn't butt into the conversation, he only eavesdropped. As he had gotten fairly good at that over the years. He couldn't understand why Jon would lie to Ponch about the cause of his old partners death, but he wasn't going to pry, at least not yet.

Now he had to find someone to keep an eye on Baker _and _Poncherello.

Ponch walked by, knocking lightly on the open door, bringing Getraer out of his thoughts. "Harlan said he'd fix the machine for us in a few minutes, Sarge," he stated, walking up to the desk. He glanced down at the slip of crumbled up paper that Getraer seemed so interested in. "Whatcha reading?"

Getraer looked up at the young officer. _How?_ He wondered. _How could you write something like this, yet still stand here and smile at me now?_

"Sarge?"

Getraer cleared his throat. "We need to talk." He stood, walking over to close the door. Returning back to his seat, he motioned for Ponch to take the empty chair beside the desk. "Have a seat, Frank." He did his best to remain calm. He felt a couple different things at once though. Anger. Confusion. Sadness. The sadness overpowered the anger, making his facial expression more soft, and concerned than angered. The confusion stayed in the back of his mind with all the why, how, and what happened questions.

Ponch glanced at the door, before taking a seat, and bringing his focus back to his obviously troubled sergeant.

"Are...are you okay?" Getraer asked, not sure how to go about having this conversation. A conversation he had hoped to never have with an officer of his, but knew it would be likely to happen after Gary's death. He just hadn't been expecting it to be Ponch. As he looked at Ponch, he searched his brain for any reason he could think of that would make Ponch feel the way he had described on the paper.

"You mean you called me in here, just to ask me how I'm doing?" Ponch gave Getraer a look, not believing that for a second. He'd never thought Getraer would care enough to ask a question like that. In fact he was starting to wonder what he did to make Getraer look this sad. Unless Getraer knew more than Ponch thought he knew. He sighed, "I'm fine, why?"

Joe showed him the paper. "Would you care to explain this, Poncherello?"

Ponch's eyes widened slightly, but he relaxed quickly. His hands balling up into fists, rested on his lap. He let out a quiet breath, then relaxed his hands. "That's not mine, Sarge," he lied.

"And you expect me to believe someone just happens to have the same handwriting as you?" Getraer felt that anger starting to rise, but he did his best to keep it from causing Ponch to walk away. Something Getraer had always hated, yet tried his best to understand. If Ponch wasn't in the mood to listen to Getraer lecture him, or argue...he'd just walk away.

With Ponch and Bobby at the station Getraer was guaranteed a whopper headache daily. Right now he felt stress, as he wanted to help but didn't know how.

"It's possible, Sarge. Some people have similar-"

Getraer shook his head. "Not like yours, Poncherello. Now, would you like to try again?"

"I'm serious, Sarge! It's not mine. You know I'm not a writer. Jon's a writer."

"Yes. But Baker isn't the one who wrote this!" Getraer dropped the slip of paper on his desk. _I__ should have known he'd deny this was his. Classic Poncherello. _"Alright fine." He couldn't believe he was giving up this argument so easily. He also knew that by not arguing at some point Ponch might give in and tell him what was going on. "If you're going to expect me to go along with 'You didn't write this,' Do you know who _**did**_ write it?"

Ponch shrugged. "It wasn't me, Sarge. I can keep an eye out for someone who might have." He knew full well he wrote it, and he wasn't about to tell his sergeant and possibly break down crying and spilling his hurt feelings. He couldn't. Not to Getraer.

Getraer sighed, this was going to be a difficult conversation.

oOoOo

Jeb pulled into the Walmart parking lot, he'd just gotten off work, and planned to have some of the guys over for dinner tonight. He knew Jon wasn't doing so well with the anniversary of Gary's death having been a week ago. He wanted to do something to maybe bring a smile to his face. What better way to do it, than to have some of the guys gather around for pizza and games.

Jon wasn't exactly in the mood, but agreed to show up for a bit. Maybe Jeb was right, maybe a little time off duty together having some fun could brighten his mood. Jeb got out of his car, and rushed inside. It didn't help that the parking lot was packed and he had to park so far away from the building. "I hope the checkout line isn't too busy," he said to himself as he continued to head for the door.

Not too much later after he went inside, a man pulled up in an old silver Nissan Skyline, parking on the edge of the parking lot, closer to the road.

Driving by on his way home from work, Ponch noticed the car, and a man standing outside of the car, with the hood up. "Bad time for a car to break down," he said to himself, turning into the parking lot. He could have left it alone, but looking at the clouds he could see it was getting ready to rain. He hoped maybe whatever the man's problem was it'd be an easy fix. So he pulled into the parking lot, and parked his bike behind him.

Helping this guy would be a nice distraction to get his mind off the conversation he had with Getraer earlier. He had barely spoken to Jon afterwards, and Jon knew something was wrong.

Ponch dreaded knowing Jon was going to try to talk to him later about what happened in Getraer's office. _He can't talk to me if I don't show up. _He thought, but ignored the thought. Jon'd come looking for him if he didn't show up to Jeb's apartment tonight. Letting out a sigh, Ponch got off his bike, "Hey, it's gonna start raining soon. You need some help?" He asked, walking up to the guy slowly.

"Oh yes please! Let me grab my tools." The dark haired man smiled when he saw help arrive.

Ponch walked up to take a look at the car, while the man got inside the front seat, and didn't return for a minute. He heard him talking quietly, and assumed he was only talking to himself. "So what seems to be the trouble?" Ponch asked.

"I think it's something with the engine," the man said, glancing over his shoulder to see a truck pulling up.

Ponch continued to look around, everything looked fine. He glanced up to see where the guy had went, when he noticed three other guys standing with him. "You already had help on the way?" Ponch guessed, then noticed one of the men had a gun. He took a small step back from the car. "Easy, man." He took another step back, trying to buy himself the time he needed to think of a plan. He was exhausted, this had been the last thing he needed to run into today.

The man with a gun took a step closer, "Give me your gun belt," he demanded.

Ponch hesitated, reaching slowly for his gun.

The man noticed, and shot down at the ground, near Ponch's feet, but missed them.

Ponch jumped. "Hey man, take it easy." He had his hand on his gun now, ready to pull it out. As luck would have it, his gun was sticking._This is just great ._

The man pointed his gun at Ponch this time. "Hand over your gun belt, this isn't a joke, officer. I don't want to shoot you, but if it comes to that, I won't hesitate."

_This cannot be happening..._Ponch despite wanting to die, didn't want this man to shoot him. He would have rather killed himself than let someone else do it for him. He reached for his gun belt, reluctantly pulling it off, to hand it over.

The man stepped closer, not lowering his gun for a minute. As he reached for the gun belt, Ponch reached for the man's gun. Grabbing onto his wrist, and pointing the gun to the ground, as he tried to pull it out. He dropped his gun belt in the process. He got the gun out of the man's hand, tossing it aside. He twisted the man's arm behind his back, then reached for his handcuffs, only to remember that he had taken his belt off. He sighed, pinning the man against the ground, as he desperately reached for his gun belt.

The other men came over, one stepping on Ponch's hand.

He cried out in pain, but couldn't get his hand free. By the time the one guy moved his foot there was already another man hovering over Ponch.

"Why you have to put up a fight, cop?" he asked, grabbing Ponch from behind, pulling him off of their leader, and flipping him over on his back.

Ponch stared up at the guy, his eyes wide. He held his now sore hand, and started to slowly move back towards the car. Slowly getting to his feet, he glanced to the man with his gun belt, then to the other who had just picked his gun back up. "Hey, drop your weapons. Whatever it is you want, let's handle this peacefully," he said, on the outside he tried to look calm about this, not wanting them to know they'd shaken him up. Inside he was a mess. He tried to think fast, there had to be something he could do. He started to inch back towards his bike, that plan failing when he felt a gun pointed against his back.

"Raise those hands high, chippie," the dark haired man whispered in his ear.

Ponch felt sick, it didn't matter what he did, each man had a gun pointed at him. He glanced to the side, how could they be in a public place yet no one saw or did anything.

Everyone walking by if they even glanced in that direction they turned their heads to pretend they didn't see anything. Or at least it seemed that way. Ponch noticed Jeb's car sitting in the parking lot. _Oh come on, Jeb...if there was ever a good time for you to show up, now would be that time. _He thought, as he raised his hands up above his head. The dark haired man opened up the door to the car, one of the other men tossed over a pair of handcuffs. He pushed Ponch inside, then handcuffed him to the inside of the door, and slammed it shut. "Let's go before anyone else sees. I'm sure some loud mouth already saw. You didn't pick a good spot to do this, Harry," the dark haired man said to the leader.

The leader didn't say anything. Already silently berating himself for his poor choices. He and the others, loaded Ponch's bike up into the bed of their truck, then they all piled in and left.

The dark haired man got into his car, he glanced back to see Ponch struggling to free himself. "Stop making this harder than it has to be."

Ponch glared at him, and for once didn't have anything to say to fight back.

oOoOo

Jeb was in the check out line for what seemed like ages. The person in front of him seemed to have bought every item sold in the store, then she kept sending people to get extra things she'd forgotten, it was ridiculous. He sighed, and looked around for another check out lane that might move along faster. He was thankful when he found another one just opening up. He went for it, and was done within a matter of minutes. "Finally," he muttered as he headed out for his car. He was still in uniform, but driving his own car, he needed to go home and change before the guests arrived. As he walked out the door a frantic woman and her husband came running up to him. "Officer! Officer! You have to help him!" the woman cried, pointing towards the parking lot.

Jeb nearly dropped his groceries. "Help who? Where?" he asked.

"That motorcycle cop. He was held at gunpoint," he man said, trying to catch his own breath. "We were on our way in to call the police..."

Jeb's eyes widened. "Call the police, okay? Tell them Highway Patrol Officer Jeb Turner is on scene, but needs back up," he said as he was running off for his car. "Give them our location!" he added from a distance.

The couple hurried inside to call the police. As Jeb reached the end of the parking lot he saw the car pulling away, along with a truck, carrying a CHP motorcycle. His heart nearly stopped. "Please let that officer be okay," he prayed quietly, as he got into his own car.


	5. Chapter 5

Tears pooled in Jon's blue eyes. He blinked, hoping they would subside, but he only made the amount of waiting tears increase. "I still don't get it," Jon said quietly to the picture of Gary, sitting on the coffee table in front of Jeb's couch. Jon had shown up for the party, but was first to arrive. Jeb always left a spare key under the welcome mat, so his friends could let themselves in if he wasn't home. "Why did you want to leave all of this behind? Why couldn't you just tell me you wanted to die? I thought we told each other everything. We were supposed to be there for each other."

Jon shook his head, running his fingers through his messy blonde hair. It hadn't been combed in days, but thankfully with it being cut short the lack of grooming wasn't noticeable. "I don't know, maybe it is my fault?" He sat closer to the edge of the couch as the thoughts floated around in his mind, eating at him. He sprung up from the couch, starting to pace. "It is my fault. I'm the one who was supposed to have your back. You probably dropped clues and it slipped right under my nose. I let you die!" Jon ran his fingers through his hair again, tears once again threatening to fall, he didn't fight them. He collapsed back onto the couch. "It's all my fault...Gary, I'm sorry. I failed you."

He'd barely been seated a minute, before other guests began to arrive. Bonnie, Bear, and Grossie.

Jon wiped his eyes, trying to act as if he hadn't been crying. He wished Jeb didn't have a picture of Gary sitting out. However he knew they were friends too, and with the recent anniversary of Gary's death, Jeb had moved the picture he usually had sitting on a shelf, to the coffee table. Something he'd done since Gary's death, he would spend a few moments in silence, then start talking about his good and bad memories, and wondering why Gary had decided to leave. He'd meant to be home before Jon showed up so he could move it, but plans changed.

"Jeb's not here yet?" Bear asked, though the answer was obvious.

"I believe he mentioned something about having to run to Walmart," Grossie said, as he entered the kitchen, in search for something to drink.

"That's fine, not everyone is here anyway," Jon said, wiping more tears from his eyes. He tried not to draw attention to the fact he'd been crying, he waited for them to look in another direction before dabbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Bear seemed surprised by that news. "Who else is coming?" he pulled his jacket off, hanging it on the hooks on the wall by the door.

"Joe and Ponch," Jon replied. "Don't tell me you thought they weren't invited."

"No, it's not that." Bear frowned, before getting a chance to finish that thought, Bonnie spoke.

"I thought Joe had other plans tonight." She was taking a seat on the couch, next to Jon.

Grossie walked into the room, heading over to take a seat next to Bonnie. "He said he'd be here, I asked him before I left the station." He sat down, then glanced to the picture of Gary. "You know who I never heard confirmation from though?" He paused. "Ponch." Grossie took a sip of the bottle of soda he had found in the fridge. "Come to think of it, I don't think Ponch has been hanging out with us at all after work the past few months," he thought aloud. "And if he has, he hasn't added to the conversation. Which is very unlike Ponch, what do you think Jon?" Grossie played it cool, like he didn't know the reason behind it. He and Bear knew exactly why Ponch wasn't hanging out at parties much. But should they share this knowledge with the others?

"Has anyone else noticed Ponch's been a little off lately?" Bear asked, coming to sit in an empty chair across from the couch. He played along with Grossie.

Grossie gave Bear a look. _Did you really have to go re-word the question I just asked? _he sighed, looking at Jon waiting for him to answer. _Come to think of it, Jon's been pretty off too. But I know why... _

Jon looked at Bear, then to Bonnie and Grossie. "I'm sure Ponch would appreciate your concern for him, but uh..." Jon paused, scratching the back of his neck. "He's going to be okay, he's just dealing with personal-" Jon stopped when he saw Joe walk in, carrying a veggie tray. Following closely behind was Bobby. _Oh yeah, I forgot he was coming. _

"Turner not here yet?" Joe asked, closing the door behind him.

"No, we're waiting for him," Bonnie answered.

Getraer nodded, then looked at Jon, a relieved smile appearing for only a moment. _Thank God he's not distancing himself anymore. _

"Sarge, we were just talking about Ponch," Grossie informed him, as he went to clear off a seat for their sergeant, and friend. There was a chair beside the couch, it had become a storage chair, holding piles of miscellaneous items, such as books, clothes, and tv remotes.

Getraer's smile faded. _That's what's missing. _He thought. _Where is Poncherello? _"What about him?" Joe walked into the living room, and set the veggie tray on the coffee table.

Bobby took a piece of celery before seating himself on the floor, remaining quiet to hear what the story was about Ponch. He and Ponch were never close friends, but they talked enough that Bobby felt he knew him. He knew something was wrong. But what? He was almost ready to take matters into his own hands and ask Ponch himself. Out of respect for Jon and his wishes, Bobby had kept his mouth shut though.

Grossie had moved everything from the chair onto the floor, he knew Jeb wouldn't mind. "We noticed he's been acting different lately. At work it's like he's trying to hide something, off duty we never see him anymore."

Joe took a seat, and looked at the other officers in the room, contemplating whether or not he should bring up the conversation he'd had with Ponch in his office that day. After Ponch denying over and over that the paper Getraer found wasn't his, he had to listen to Ponch make up a couple of different excuses. Joe had grown tired of listening to it, but just when he was about to end the conversation, he had caught Ponch's eyes filling with tears. He sat quietly waiting to hear if he had something to say, and soon had listened to Ponch telling him how worried he was about Jon. It hadn't been what Joe hoped to hear after reading that paper, but at least he heard something.

He hadn't had much to tell him, only a few answers to questions. He couldn't even bring up how Gary actually died, because it would risk hurt feelings. Jon needed to be the one to tell Ponch what happened to Gary, if the information was ever shared. The question that had stuck with Joe, and kept replaying in his mind came towards the end of their conversation, when Ponch asked if Joe thought Jon might be feeling suicidal, and how he could help him if he was.

The question didn't surprise him too much, as he knew in some cases when someone close to you commits suicide, like in the case of Gary's death; it could lead to a chain reaction. Another suicide, or thoughts of wanting to join him...or an overwhelming amount of emotions, too difficult to deal with all at once. The feeling so strong, leaving a person falling farther and farther down into a deeper hole...surrounded by darkness, the light seeming so far and out of reach. At one point there comes the time where a decision must be made. Chase after the light, or let the darkness overtake you. A decision hard to make when it feels like your mind is locked in a prison cell, the mental pain keeping you locked in. The key to get out, just barely out of reach. The only way out is to ask for help, but sometimes people can't hear a prisoner calling out for freedom.

He knew Jon was struggling. He had hoped Jon would say something to him first, if he was considering suicide, he wanted to believe that Jon was okay. It was easier to believe that, then live with knowing he wasn't sure how to help him. What if there was no way to help him? There is only so much one can do to save a person.

Joe shook his head. _Was Ponch feeling helpless because he can't help Jon? _"Baker, I need to talk with you privately," Joe finally said, standing. He saw the look of concern and confused faces on his officers. "Relax. He's not in trouble."

Jon stood, following Joe down the hall into the nearly empty guest bedroom. There was a twin sized bed sitting against the wall opposite to a window, that was all. There wasn't even a closet space. Joe took Jon inside, and closed the door behind him.

_Please don't let this be about Gary...or Ponch..._Jon thought, though he somehow knew it was about both of them, and himself.

oOoOo

"Keep your head down!" the dark haired man yelled at Ponch, seeing him peeking up to look out the window. He couldn't see past the truck where the other men were. He tried to look past, but saw nothing. "I said get down!" the man yelled again, reaching into the seat beside him, and picking up a book, which he decided to throw at Ponch.

"Ow!" the book hit, then fell to the floor. He slowly laid back down, like the guy wanted. It was uncomfortable with his arm handcuffed to the door. "I hope you didn't lose the key," Ponch muttered.

"I'm not an idiot, officer Bertrom."

"What did you call me?"

"Officer Bertrom, it's your name. Gary Ber-" the man stopped and laughed. "You're not fooling me, stop talking," he said. He hadn't been paying attention, if he had read Ponch's name plate, he would have seen the name Poncherello.

_Jon's old partner? _Ponch frowned. _I don't look anything like him..._ Ponch wasn't sure what they would have wanted with Gary, but it was clear they didn't know what they were doing. He thought about looking up again, but he knew it wouldn't be worth it. He'd seen Jeb's car at Walmart, he knew Jeb would have known about this by now. He also knew if Jeb didn't know about it yet, everyone would notice Ponch missing from Jeb's party, and then they'd go looking for him. He just had to wait. He sighed. _what if they don't come looking for me?_

A few cars down from them, Jeb was following. Jeb had no intention of spending his afternoon, in a car chase after a group of men who had kidnapped an officer. He had repeated over and over, please don't let that officer be one from Central. Though he had a sick feeling he would know exactly who that officer was. He'd also repeated had over and over, 'please let that officer be okay.' Jeb had taken off after the car and truck when he got his car started. Because he was in his own car and not a CHP cruiser, he was doing his best to catch them without drawing attention from any officers unaware of the situation, the last thing he needed was to be pulled over and let them get away. However if he had gotten pulled over, he could get them to help in the chase.

He kept on their tail for as long as he could, before they pulled out into the middle of an intersection, blowing a stop sign, and a traffic light and causing cars to swerve, and hit each other. Jeb sighed angrily, as he stopped to get out and check on the drivers for any injuries. One woman was in a car, that had flipped over, after hitting the car beside it, in an attempt to get out of the way of the car and truck duo that had blown by.

Jeb took a glance, not seeing either vehicle in sight now. He cursed under his breath, continuing to help the people in the accident. He had no way of calling it in with his personal car, and he wished he could have still been in his cruiser. It didn't take long before another officer arrived on scene.

oOoOo

"Joe, I'm fine. At least as fine as I can be. You know I miss Gary, and I wish I could change everything that happened...or understand why it happened. I'm not ready to move on."

"No one is asking you to." Joe looked at him, "Did I say that?"

Jon shook his head. "No, I feel like everyone expects me to be over it already. I can't even accept that it was suicide. I lied about it to Ponch, he doesn't know. When I thought I could tell him, I found out that his dad committed suicide...it didn't feel like the right time to say I've been lying to him."

Joe listened. "I think he knows, Jon."

Jon's eyes widened. "Grossie told him, didn't he?"

Joe shook his head. "I didn't mean he knows how Gary died. I mean, he knows you're lying to him. He knows better than to pry into something so personal, so he's been backing off. I know you might not believe that. If it were any other topic, he'd never let you sleep until you share the truth. With Gary it's different. You're hurting, he never would want you to force him to tell you the details of his pain...so he doesn't expect the same of you, and if you want to lie about it to make it hurt less, he's not going to stop you. But he's not giving up on you, he's waiting for you to be ready to talk about Gary."

Jon felt the tears he'd refused to shed earlier, starting to form again. "That sounds like him," he said quietly. He looked at Joe. "Is that what you guys talked about in your office today?"

"Uh, part of it." Joe reached into his pocket, the piece of paper, he'd kept it with him. Ever since his conversation with Ponch had ended, he'd been debating back and forth whether or not to tell Jon about what he'd found. Jon was dealing with enough, did he really need to worry about Ponch too? Maybe he already knew? Joe played with the paper in his pocket, thinking of all the possible outcomes to this conversation.

"If you don't mind me asking, what did you talk about? Ponch said he'd tell me later, but Ponch isn't here..."

Joe sighed. "I've been debating whether or not to tell you this," he started, pulling the piece of paper from his pocket. "I found this, Ponch denies he wrote it of course, but he did."

Jon skimmed the paper, then got up. "I have to find him."

Joe stood with him. "You're not going alone."

"Then come with me." Jon was already on his way out the door. _I am not losing another partner. Not like this. _He determined. _...But what if I'm too late? _


	6. Chapter 6

Jeb went back to the station, instead of going home. He wasn't going to rest until he could find the officer who had been kidnapped. He decided he'd better run inside and make a phone call to his apartment to see if anyone was there yet. If they were, he'd have to tell them to go home. Waiting for someone to answer the phone made him hopeful that no one was there, but then he'd have to call everyone at their own homes.

The closest room with a working phone was the report room. He went in and sat at the table, dialing his number and waiting. After a few rings, he finally heard the voice of someone else on the other line. "Hello, I'm sorry Jeb isn't home right now, but I can take a message," it was Grossie.

"Grossie, is anyone else there yet?"

"Jon and Getraer just left, but they were here. It's just me, Bobby, Bear and Bonnie-"

"Jon and Joe left?" Jeb shook his head. "Never mind that. I can't make it home for the party. Something came up."

Grossie held back a laugh. "Making up excuses not to come to your own party?" he teased.

Jeb sighed, he hadn't planned on staying on the phone longer than he needed to. However with an officer missing he knew everyone would find out, perhaps Grossie and the others would come help him in his search. "Grossie, an officer was kidnapped. I was at Walmart when it happened, and apparently it happened out in the parking lot. I wasn't informed soon enough to stop it, and they got away. It was a motorcycle officer, but I never saw him. I'm going back to look for any evidence, and the people who reported it just came in to give a clearer description of what the men involved looked like. They didn't tell us anything about the officer, apparently they didn't get a good enough look at him. Must've already been stuffed in their car."

The more he listened the more his smile turned to a frown. "What happened to his or her cruiser?"

"Motor took his bike." Jeb rolled his eyes. _Did I not just say it was a motorcycle officer? _

Grossie felt a knot forming in his stomach. "You don't think that officer was Ponch, do you?"

Jeb had been trying to push that thought out of his mind for the last few minutes. "How-"

"He has to drive by that Walmart on the way home most days if he takes the same route. He's the only one besides you that never showed up."

Jeb slammed his fist on the table and cursed under his breath. "I hope you're wrong."

"Me too," Grossie said before hanging up and turning to the others. "party is postponed. A CHP officer was kidnapped, Jeb's already involved in the search."

Bobby stood as soon as the information left Grossie's mouth. He rushed to grab his coat, not caring to hear the other details he was ready then be on scene.

"You mentioned Ponch's name," Bear said, worry lacing his voice, as he remained seated. "You think he was-"

"We don't know that, but that was my first guess."

"Let's hope you're wrong," Bonnie said heading for the door.

Grossie nodded in agreement.

oOoOo

Ponch didn't remember falling asleep, but here he was waking up to a killer headache. He laid on the floor in a dark, empty and windowless room. The only way out was through the tall metal door.

_What is this place? _He wondered, trying to get up. As he stood he became aware of two things 1. His whole body ached like he'd been in an accident. 2. He was dizzy. He fell over into the wall, slowly sliding back to the floor. He hit the cold concrete floor he'd woken up on. It was so dark, he hadn't noticed it before, but there was one small window on the door. Small enough to provide dim lighting, but not big enough to see a clear picture of what was on the outside.

Nothing but quietness filled the air, no sounds or signs of life on the other side of the door. What if they left him here to die quietly and alone? There were hooks in the ceiling, looking up at them he finally noticed there was one thing in the room. Something hanging down from one of the hooks. If he suddenly wasn't so tired he would have gotten up to investigate. Instead he laid his head down, he drifting off to sleep, hoping to let the time pass. He wouldn't have anything to worry about...at least that had been his hope.

_"I..I'll always miss you. You were a great father." Martin stood looking at his father's gravestone. It was a cold rainy day, fitting for the occasion. His mother and siblings stood close behind him. Each dressed in black clothing, most of them in dress shirts and jeans. All except the youngest. He wore an over sized sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans. Not the most dressed up, but at least he was wearing black, and that made his mother happy. _

_"You didn't care about him," Ponch said quietly._

_Maria Poncherello's eyes widened. "Honey, let him grieve. This is **his **fathers funeral."_

_Ponch shook his head, tears threatened to fall, but he wouldn't let them. "I never said he couldn't-" he started, stopping to dry his tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Despite what his mother had said, he didn't come to the funeral dressed up. He had zero motivation for it, it was hard enough to get out of bed. The sweatshirt had been his Dad's, he'd watched his Mom throw out his father's things so easily as if the death hadn't hurt. The only thing he'd been able to save was his Dad's favorite hoodie sweatshirt. _

_Robert and Patti hadn't spoken much since arriving. There hadn't been a funeral, just a burial that Maria felt was good enough for a funeral. Ponch didn't understand it, but maybe he would years later? Right now all he felt was anger and sadness. Most of the anger directed towards his family. _

_Robert put a hand on his brothers shoulder. "Hey, Frank...I understand Martin was always fighting with Dad, but he loved him too. Now isn't the time to-"_

_Ponch shook his head, backing away from Robert. "stop..." He took one glance at his family. "You all act like Dad was your best friend."_

_Martin turned, worried his brother was going to cause a scene at the graveyard.. "hey, relax-"_

_"My Dad killed himself, and you want me to relax!?" Ponch took another step back from his family. _

_"I didn't mean-" Martin started._

_"It's easy for you to relax! You told him you hated him, and now you're here trying to act like you liked him?" Ponch looked at Robert and Patti."You never had to say it... pushing him away was enough. And you still want to stand here and act like you didn't hate him? You all hate him."_

_Robert shook his head. "I don't hate him. I just didn't want to hangout all the time, or I might have grown to hate him. You seemed to really like him though, so obviously there was some good in him." _

_Ponch opened his mouth to argue, but his mother quickly cut him off. __"Francis-" Maria spoke up._

_"No. No, you're worse. You **married **him, but you still saw no problem sneaking out with other guys!"_

_"I had good reason!" Maria defended._

_"What good reason is there to go behind your husband's back and see other people!?" _

Ponch squirmed a little in his sleep. He didn't want to be dreaming, but couldn't seem to wake up. He'd spent the last ten years internalizing a lot of his thoughts. The results ending in some emotional outbursts, many visits to Principal Singleton's office for various reasons like damaging school property, skipping class, talking back at the teacher, causing a food fight, and many other offenses. He'd run away from home a few times, got in a few fights with his stepdad and mostly had a reputation for being hot headed, and a trouble maker.

As Ponch slept he didn't notice the door open, a few men stepping inside the room. Two were involved in his kidnapping, one was not. "See, we brought him in," the dark haired man said, smiling.

Another dark haired man stepped inside, shining a flashlight to see if there was another officer in there besides Ponch. He shook his head. "You got the wrong guy."

"What? No, no this is Jon Baker's partner," the blonde said defending himself and the other guys. Feeling unsure he took a step back to hide behind his friend.

"I've never seen this officer before." He walked into the room, shining the flashlight on Ponch, who somehow managed to stay asleep through this. "Poncherello," he said reading the gold name plate, a small smile crept across his face. "There will be a slight change of plans, but I can work with this." He walked back for the doorway.

The blonde said, peeking his head out from behind the dark haired man. "So, you're not mad at us?"

The boss man only patted the blonde on the shoulder as he walked by. Not providing an actual answer, and leaving both men guessing.

oOoOo

Jon and Joe had arrived at Ponch's apartment, and noticed his motorcycle wasn't there, which indicated he never did make it home yet. "This isn't like him, Joe," Jon said getting back into his truck to drive around.

Joe nodded. "Let's head back to the station and see if he went back." It wasn't likely, but it was worth a shot.

Jon started to drive back to Central. "Joe, do you think we're going to lose Ponch?" the thought scared Jon.

Joe shook his head. "Jon, I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay. That Ponch will accept our help-"

"But you don't want to lie to me, because you don't know either," Jon finished for him. "I don't want to lose him." He stopped at the red light, laying his head against the steering wheel for a moment to let out a quiet sigh, before raising his head. "I lied to him about Gary, because I didn't want to admit that I lost a partner to suicide. I didn't want him to know that I didn't see it coming, that I missed any signs if there was one. I've been angry about it. Why couldn't Gary just talk to me? Or to anyone else? He didn't have to-" Jon stopped, biting his lip. The light turned green and he started to drive again.

Joe stared out the window, processing his own thoughts quietly. "After Gary's death, I've always worried you'd follow him," he said quietly. "I've _tried _to not be so hard on you, on everyone else. It still eats at me that days before his death we'd had the biggest argument we ever would have. I put too much pressure on him. I do expect you all to be as perfect as you can be on and off duty, to hold this certain image. But I'm also very well aware that were are all humans, imperfect in different ways. Whenever he messed up I was on his back right away, whether it was a big or small mistake. I should have had his back more. We all make a mistake on occasion."

Jon listened to Joe talking, the expression on his face softening, he felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes. "Joe, we all know you're only hard on us because you're the sergeant...and because sometimes we need it. Gary never thought you were wrong when you came down on him. In fact if he were still around for you to ask, he'd tell you he only got mad because you were right about what you said, and he didn't want to admit you were right."

Joe chuckled quietly, but couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"I was in shock when I found out he'd committed suicide. I still wonder to this day what lead him to it. I don't want to spend the rest of my life guessing on what I could have done differently, or if I could have done anything. I also don't want to spend the rest of my life guessing what would put Ponch in the same position. I want to catch him before he can-" Jon stopped again. "Joe, why would he-" Jon stopped, he was pulling into the back parking lot at Central and noticed Jeb there.

Joe's brow raised in confusion. "I thought Turner went home already," he said, rolling the window down. "Turner!" he called.

Jeb turned seeing Joe and Jon in Jon's truck. He ran up to them. "Hey, I heard you left. I talked to Grossie already. Party is off for tonight. A motorcycle officer was kidnapped in the Walmart parking lot. I've got a description of the two vehicles, and I'm on my way back to the scene to look for clues. I didn't get a good look at the license plates, so I'm going to ask around."

Joe nodded. "We're going to join you. Did you see who the officer was? Or any descriptions?"

Jeb shook his head. "I wish I did, Sarge. I just barely caught them leaving the Walmart parking lot, I don't have a description of those involved, but the couple who reported it left their names with one of the Walmart cashiers so we can ask questions."

Joe nodded, he had a sick feeling he might know who was kidnapped, but he tried to push the thought aside. It didn't matter, whoever it was he wanted to find them before it was too late. There was no telling what the kidnappers intentions were.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun shined, bringing natural light into the tiny bedroom. Miranda Peterson sat on the hardwood floor, her back against the only couch in the room. The only piece of furniture they could fit in the small room. The Peterson property was just a few miles outside of L.A. in the middle of nowhere, away from everything. Miranda had always been a homebody, so she rarely left the house. She stayed home, working around the house, while her husband Leonard went out nearly every day. She was an artist. On weekends she would paint in the tiny blue bedroom. She did her best to stay out of Leonard's way. They hadn't spoken much the last few years. They had been more like roommates than husband and wife.

High school sweethearts, the two had always assumed they'd marry have a family and be happy forever. Happy ever afters weren't exactly reality, they had learned quickly. Leonard had been picked up a few times for drunk driving, he hadn't gone out as much since then. He was certain that officer Gary Bertrom was out to get him. What really did it was when Gary pulled him over the same day he and Miranda discovered they couldn't have kids. He'd barely been drinking, but there was enough alcohol to catch on his breath. He tried to explain the situation, but Gary didn't give him a break. That was only the beginning...the next time he was out he'd met Jon Baker.

In the room next door, Leonard paced, while his men sat, trying to remain calm.

"Honest, boss!" Dale, the dark haired man started. "we thought officer Poncherello was officer Bertrom."

"Maybe if you would have shown us a picture, we would have went for the right guy," the blonde, Jax suggested.

Harry the leader of the small group that has been sent out shook his head, running his fingers through his short dark hair. "He shouldn't have had to tell us what he looks like, we should have been more observant."

"Oh, and how can he expect us to read every officer's name plate and find out-" Kenny the second blonde started, only to be cut off by Dale.

"We should have been able to tell based on who Jon's partner was. That was our instructions. Kidnap Jon's partner, Gary. How were we to know he had a new partner!? It's not our fault! And the boss can do this job on his-" there was the sound of a gun shot, Dale's eyes widened as he saw a bullet heading for him, seemingly in slow motion but it had been much faster than he could react to.

The bullet hit his neck, going through and getting stuck, he began to choke, as blood began pouring out the small entry wound. He gasped for air, grabbing at his neck, coughing. Sputtering, it didn't move, color drained from his face. He fell to the floor, blood continuing to pool around him on the white carpet.

The other men watched, motionless. They didn't dare move, the risk of their death on the line. They sat frozen, seemingly emotionless, like robots.

"Anyone else want to question my instructions or defend your mistake?"

_That's not going to be easy to clean up, _Jax thought, but kept it to himself.

Harry clenched his fists tight, at his sides. Dale had been his friend, apparently not a close friend, as his own life meant more to him than an attempt to save him, or any attempt to start a war with the boss. Each man in the room meant nothing to Leonard. They were like disposable items... replaceable.

"This is your first warning. If you fail me again," Leonard paused then laughed. "Well let's just say there is no such thing as two second chances."

The others looked at each other, trying to put on a show like they weren't feeling any emotions with their friend lying on the floor dead. They couldn't show the emotions. Their lives meant too much. Having been involved in criminal activity for years, for some this wasn't the first dead body they'd seen. For some they had become desensitized.

oOoOo

Jon and Joe had scanned the area between the CHP and Walmart. A lot of ground to cover, and they were still at it. Jeb was with Bobby and Grossie at the Walmart parking lot. It had started raining hours after the kidnapping and still raining now. There was nothing that would keep them from finding answers though.

The couple who had reported it weren't much help aside from providing a few details on what the men looked like. They didn't have a clear description of the officer, but from what little they did remember, Jeb quickly identified the officer to be Ponch. The confirmation had been enough to put Jon more on edge.

It was nearly 5AM. They hadn't stopped looking. Jon couldn't. Joe had fallen asleep once or twice in the passenger seat of Jon's truck, but woke up minutes afterwards, hearing Jon cursing, and hitting the steering wheel in frustration. As if it were his trucks fault they hadn't found anything.

Joe jumped slightly, being made aware he had drifted off again.

"It's been hours," Jon said, looking at Joe. He parked the truck to think. "What would they want? Where would they have gone? And why Ponch!?"

Joe yawned, sitting up. "Well," he started. He stopped when Jon rolled down the window. They had parked at the Walmart parking lot, and Grossie walked up to the car.

"Find anything, Grossman?"

"Nothing, Sarge. Whoever did this was careful to not leave any clues behind," Grossie answered. "What I find interesting is their choice of places to kidnap an officer."

"Yeah, why a Walmart parking lot?" Jeb asked, coming over. Bobby remained farther away still searching for clues.

Jon slammed his head down against the steering wheel, causing the car horn to go off. He let out a loud sob, followed by him cursing again and sitting up. Running his fingers through his messy blonde hair he looked to Joe. The concerned look on his sergeants face was enough to tell Joe wasn't letting that slide.

Tears filled Jon's eyes, keeping himself together was proving to be much harder than he thought it'd be. His mind kept repeating over and over 'i can't lose Ponch. I can't...' but slowly the words began to change to 'I'm gonna lose Ponch.' Jon began to cry again, not realizing the words had escaped his lips. "I'm going to lose him...I can't lose Ponch."

Grossie would have taken this time to interject his own opinion, but he opted to stay quiet once again, to avoid upsetting Jon more.

Jeb was actually speechless. _The bad guys broke Jon..._ was all he could think.

oOoOo

"Was that a gunshot I heard?" Miranda asked, alarmed.

Leonard half smiled, the first time his wife had spoken to him in days. The smile faded quickly though, he never liked when she asked questions. "Everything is fine, doll."

"Leonard, if there was a gunshot in my house-" she started.

"It's not your house, sweetheart." He grabbed her by the wrist. "I bought this property, you're lucky to still live here" he let go of her, pushing her back towards her room. "Get back to your painting and minding your own business."

She glared at him, but not having the strength or courage to argue with him she slipped back into the small guest room and closed the door.

Leonard walked to the basement, there was a small main room at the bottom of the stairs that led to the only other room down there. He looked inside, seeing the officer still asleep. "Isn't it about time you wake up, chippie?" He said with a laugh as he let himself into the room.

This time the noise of the door opening caused Ponch to jump, his eyes opened, looking around the room. The light from the other room in the basement providing the light to see Leonard standing there.

He looked up at the tall muscular dark haired man, then looked away acting like he was bored.

Leonard reached up turning on a light Ponch hadn't noticed was there, before he closed the door. He walked over, kneeling beside Ponch, and grabbing his face, turning Ponch to face him.

"So, officer... Poncherello," Leonard started, pausing to read Ponch's name plate again. Why did the last name suddenly seem more familiar to him, and not because he had just learned of Ponch's existence. He could have sworn he knew another Poncherello.

"What do you want?" Ponch asked, sitting up.

Leonard let go of him. "Can you believe my men made a mistake, bringing you here?" He said with a small chuckle, doing his best to act friendly and obtain some information.

"Didn't seem like a mistake to me," Ponch replied quietly. "And if it was, I guess you can just let me go, huh?"

"No, I'm afraid it's not that easy. If you left, you'd tell all your other Chippies what happened, where we live and how many of us there are. We can't risk that." He pulled a knife from his pocket, bringing it close to Ponch's face. "I need information."

Ponch just looked at him, not responding.

"Tell me why my men couldn't find officer Bertrom."

Ponch swallowed hard. If this was all just about Gary maybe it'd be easy to say he was dead. "Gary died," Ponch said quietly.

"You're lying." He brought the knife closer.

"No, he died. Car accident."

Leonard nodded. "That does change things a little again... Baker is still around though" he said quietly.

Ponch's eyes widened. _He wants to hurt Jon? _

"You are Jon's partner, correct?"

"Jon who?" Ponch asked playing dumb.

"I see you like to be difficult." He laughed. "No worries, you will talk. You're going to help me with my revenge on your partner."

"I don't have a partner," Ponch lied.

Leonard's smile faded quickly. "Lying isn't that funny, officer Poncherello."

He had barely gotten the words out when the door opened. He turned to watch as the last member of his group dragged in Dale's lifeless body. It had been his job for ages, they usually stored dead bodies in this room until they could provide a proper burial.

Suddenly Leonard remembered why the name Poncherello meant something. He glanced back to Ponch, seeing his eyes widen. "R-Robert!?"


	8. Chapter 8

Hours turned to days, days to a week. Many sleepless nights. Long tiring days. Jon was dragging by the end of the week, running only on the caffeine from his many cups of coffee. They'd hit dead ends. Whoever had taken Ponch was keeping quiet. The whole situation felt off. "Why haven't we heard anything? No reports from witnesses. No anonymous phone calls asking for ransom money or making other demands. No nothing." Jon stood in Getraer's office, pacing.

Joe watched from his chair at the desk. Watching Jon pace made him feel tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep either. Working extra hours, trying to find his missing officer. He let out a quiet sigh. Poncherello was one of the most accident prone people he had ever met. He was also the only person Joe knew that could get into trouble so easily. He wished neither of those were part of who Ponch was, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. _If only it were acceptable to send him out wrapped in bubble wrap and a tracking device. _He thought, shaking his head.

Jon finally stopped pacing, about to take a seat in the empty chair. He stopped. "Joe, I'm going back to Walmart." He headed for the door, stopping to turn back to him. "I know we've been all over, but I can't help but feel we're missing something."

Joe nodded. "I'll join you."

oOoOo

Robert had left quickly after finding his little brother in Leonard's basement room. He wasn't sure what to do. He'd made a commitment to work for Leonard...but on the other hand he didn't commit to helping hurt his brother.

_"Please, you have to let him go. You said yourself having him here wasn't part of the plan!" Robert had argued with Leonard the day he saw Ponch. _

_Leonard thought for a moment, stalling by stroking an imaginary beard. Acting as if Robert's feelings mattered. He shook his head and laughed. "I don't remember you being in charge around here." That was all he said before walking away. _

Robert stumbled towards the door to the basement room. He had been dragging his feet, stalling for time as he tried to formulate the correct words to use when he faced his brother finally. "I made a little mistake," he rehearsed. Shaking his head, a quiet sigh escaped. "Who am I kidding, I messed up big," he told himself as he grabbed onto the door handle.

He started to turn it, having second thoughts he let go.

Inside the room, Ponch sat up hearing the sound of the door handle move. It was around the time Jax would normally be bringing food. Not that Ponch was eating much anyway. At least he couldn't say they didn't try to care for him.

The dead body Robert had dragged in a week ago was no longer with him. They had removed it days later, the stench of the body was left behind filling the air of the room. That alone was enough to make Ponch feel sick. He was thankful however that Jax had brought an air freshener in that morning. It masked the scent, overpowering it, but not taking it away.

When the sound of the door handle moving stopped, with the door remaining closed, Ponch bit his lip. "Am I imagining things?" He leaned his head against the wall. _I'm starting to go crazy..._he thought, a single tear forming in the corner of his left eye. He wiped it quickly, making any other tears feel unwelcome.

The door handle moved again, causing him to jump. "Not crazy," he said to himself, the door opening soon after.

Robert stepped into the room, the door closing behind him. "Frank?"

Ponch felt more tears forming. "Robert, what's going on? Why are you mixed up in all this?"

Robert took another step forward. "I made a mistake," he said. Internally kicking himself for not continuing right away.

"A mistake!? You're working with a criminal!" Ponch's first response was anger, he couldn't help it. But Robert could still hear the shakiness and confusion in his brothers voice, mixed in with the anger.

"It started before he got picked up for criminal activity. Honest. We started off friends."

Ponch nodded, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before responding with, "keep talking." He had been here only a week and learned so much from the various bad guys. Things he never asked to hear, but some were open books. Jax had joined the group, because Leonard promised good pay. Harry wasn't much of a talker, he only lives to please Leonard. He had been the only person who came in the room at the same time as Leonard. They would question Ponch, Ponch would play dumb or refuse to answer questions. They would beat him up. His body was sore, and stiff. Covered in many bruises and marks from various weapons.

Leonard liked to throw things. Glass bottles mainly. Ponch had fresh cuts and old healing ones from glass bottles shattering against his skin, slicing into it. If the physical pain wasn't enough, Leonard liked to try to mess with Ponch's mind. His goal to get him to a breaking point. He'd help Leonard, at least that was the hope.

Robert sighed, running his fingers through his uncombed dark hair. "We were buddies, until he snapped. I don't know what happened."

Ponch nodded, sitting up more. He grabbed his side, wincing in pain, then starting to lay back down. "What made you stay?"

"He offered money. I used it to help pay our bills."

Ponch's eyes widened. "You what!?" He took in a sharp breath, trying to calm down again. Breathing was starting to hurt, as the pain in his ribs became more than just a dull ache. Every breath slowly felt like a chore.

"Frank, listen I know it's wrong-"

"Wrong!? You drag dead bodies in here like it's nothing to you. How many people have you killed? And for what? Some money you could have earned with a normal _**legal **_job!" Ponch felt sick, his stomach in knots. How could his brother do this? And all this time he'd thought Robert was good.

"I haven't killed anyone. It's all Leonard."

"It doesn't make a difference. You...you protect him-"

"Frank-"

"No."

Robert opened his mouth to say something, when the door opened again. It was Leonard. He walked in with Harry. Harry held a newly sharpened knife.

"Good morning, Poncherello," Leonard said in his usual fake cheery voice. He knelt beside him, grabbing his face to make sure Ponch looked at him. "You ready to start talking?"

"No..." Ponch shook his head.

"You always gotta be this difficult?" Harry asked.

Ponch shrugged. "Only for you guys."

The comment made Harry's blood boil. _Why can't you just cooperate!? _His mind screamed, but he wouldn't dare ask. Ponch would likely not respond in the way Harry wanted.

Leonard sighed, he hadn't known just how big of a mistake his men had made until the week went on. His plan had been simple. Kidnap Jon's partner, leave no clues and nothing for the CHP to work off of. Keep them in the dark, making them squirm for a week. Then start dropping clues about where they were keeping the other CHP officer. However by that time Jon's partner was supposed to help lead Jon into a trap that would kill them both. The whole idea was to make them both suffer a little before the death.

Leonard was sure Jon wasn't doing well with this. He never shared yet why he wanted to hurt Jon so bad. He wanted Ponch to tell him the easiest way to catch Jon's attention without getting the rest of them in trouble. Ponch wasn't about to tell a criminal how to get away with murder. Besides the fact it was wrong, why did Leonard need the tip? Wasn't he supposed to be the bad guy here? Hadn't he already murdered several guys?

Leonard's plan wasn't adding up. It also seemed as though he kept recreating his plan each day. He acted like he knew what he was doing, but he didn't.

Leonard figured Ponch would open up, this would be over with by now. He'd be able to sleep peacefully knowing there wasn't a CHP officer locked up in his basement. Nothing was working. It didn't matter how much pain they put him in, or how many death threats they'd made. Ponch didn't say anything helpful.

There was something odd, as if Ponch didn't care of he died. Something Leonard had to question Robert about. As he questioned Robert, Harry was able to uncover the truth about Gary's death. Which now led to a whole new plan.

"You know," Leonard started. "Jon's life isn't worth defending."

Ponch's eyes widened. "Jon's my partner-" he stopped, biting his lip the words slipping out before he had a chance to think them through.

Leonard's lips curled into a small smile. "You do know him, don't you?" He already knew the answer, but he was finally about to get it from Ponch.

Ponch looked down, trying to avoid the question. He knew it was pointless now. Leonard already knew from the start that Ponch knew Jon. _I'm sorry, Jon._

"Your partner is a liar you know?"

Ponch shook his head. "He's not."

"Oh but he is," Leonard replied quickly. He reached into his pocket, revealing a news clipping. The news article on officer Gary Bertrom's death. Suicide.

Ponch shook his head. "No. Gary died in a car accident. Jon wouldn't lie about that." Though he was having his doubts now. He took in another sharp breath, trying his best to act like his pain was nothing. To avoid providing Leonard with the satisfaction of knowing he was doing a decent job.

"No. It was suicide. Jon lied to you. If he lied about this, think of all the many other things he could have lied about! Is he really worth defending!?" Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, landing on Ponch's face.

He wiped it away. "So... maybe he lied about one thing. Don't we all have our secrets?" He glanced at Robert. "Haven't we all shared a lie at least once or twice in our life? Does that mean no one is worth defending?"

This wasn't going as Leonard planned. He reached for the knife Harry had brought in, taking a new approach. He knew how to truly hurt Jon now. "Yes, yes I suppose we all are guilty of that, officer Poncherello. But tell me, if Jon couldn't save his own partner from suicide...what makes you so sure he will be here for you?"

As Ponch sat, trying to come up with an answer; Robert quietly exited the room to make a phone call.

"A little birdie told me," Leonard started, interrupting Ponch's thoughts. "That someone still hasn't recovered from his Dad's suicide. I bet it hurts knowing the ones you thought cared the most aren't here for you...or didn't care enough to stick around."

Ponch looked at him, tears threatening to fall. He tried to keep them from showing. He couldn't cry in front of this man. "Leave my Dad out of this."

Leonard leaned in closer, "Oh, but I think I found your weak spot."

Ponch blinked back more tears.

"The same little birdie told me you've wanted to join your Dad." He held up the knife for Ponch to see. "I won't ask about Jon anymore. I have all the information I need." He laid the knife beside Ponch, just within his reach. "I'm sure you'll make the right decision with this," he added, a dark look in his eyes, complemented by his evil grin. He stood, heading for the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ponch already reaching for the knife. He heard him quietly struggling to breathe, the pain in his ribs growing worse each breath. Each movement. "sweet dreams, officer Poncherello," Leonard muttered before leaving the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Jon had been on his way for the door when a front desk officer rushed over, informing him there was a call for him up front.

Jon walked quickly to the phone, his hopes up. _please let this be about Ponch. _He thought to himself. _but please let him be okay! _Jon leaned over the counter at the front desk, taking the phone from the desk officer. "This is officer Jon Baker," he said, forgetting the hello part.

Being his usual nosy self, Bobby came and stood behind Jon, trying to listen in.

Jon glared, and moved to the other side of the counter. He felt odd using the phone at the desk, as he was used to just using his cell, why would someone call him at the desk anyway? He took another step away from Bobby, while continuing to listen to the man on the other end of the line.

"Officer Baker, this is Robert Poncherello." The voice on the other end answered. His tone quiet like a whisper.

Jon felt his heart rate increase, as he heard the name Poncherello. Could this be Ponch's brother? What did he want? What if something had happened to Ponch and the family was first informed. Jon shook his head. _of course something happened to Ponch. He was kidnapped._

Seeing Jon's posture change, Bobby took another step closer. _Please let me listen in. Just this once..._ he thought. _This HAS to be the phone call about Ponch we've been waiting for. _Bobby bit his lip, then began to tap a pencil against the counter.

Jon stepped away again, leaving Bobby disappointed. _Oh c'mon! _

"I don't have much time, but I'm going to meet you at the CHP station in exactly a half hour. Be there. This is important. I can't share over the phone."

Jon nodded, but then realized no one could hear him nod over the phone. "Okay, I'll be here." And with that the line went dead. He turned, glancing to the anxious younger officer.

"Well?" Bobby asked, impatiently.

"Ponch's brother. He said he'll meet me here in a half hour," Jon replied, looking down.

"I thought his brother was in Chicago," Bobby started. "Why would he be here? You think he knows something about Ponch?"

Jon scratched the back of his neck, as he looked up at Bobby again. "I don't know. From the sound of his voice, I can tell he knows something. Let's just hope he's not too heavily involved."

oOoOo

Ponch sat in the dark room, light shined in from the window. Providing enough lighting for Ponch to see the knife in his hand. His hand was shaking, as so many thoughts raced through his mind. Jon had lied... but maybe he had a good reason. "Denying how it happened is probably how he copes," Ponch said to himself quietly. "But... we're supposed to have each other's backs. What if-" Ponch shook his head. "He wouldn't do that," he told himself quietly. There was no one else in the room to talk to, he'd gotten used to talking to himself. Which he wasn't sure was a good thing. "I can't blame him," he added quietly. "I haven't been telling him everything either."

_"If Jon can't talk about Gary, what kind of story would he make up about my death?"_ Ponch thought, as he bit his lip, looking at the blade of the knife. He'd be lying if the idea of using it wasn't on his mind. He tried to think of Jon more to get his mind away from the other thoughts. _What would he think if he found out the full story? _A tear slid down Ponch's face, as the thoughts continued.

"_My Dad wouldn't have thought twice,"_ he said thought. "Or maybe he did?' more tears began to form in his eyes. He cursed under his breath, as he leaned his head against the wall. "Why does this have to be so hard?"

Thoughts continued to whirl through his mind. Things such as, why would Robert lie to the family about his job? How much of what he had growing up was bought with the money Robert made from his criminal activity? What if it was his fault his dad turned to drugs? What if it was his fault his Dad committed suicide? Why couldn't he have forgiven his mother earlier? How long was Jon planning on keeping a secret? Would Jon really tell him if something was wrong? What if he couldn't help Jon? Why couldn't he tell Jon about everything that had happened over the last few months...the last few years...why did talking always have to be so difficult?

More tears formed now rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them this time, he didn't even try. His heart ached. So many unanswered questions. _It's all my fault..._he thought. _My dad would still be here if I hadn't been such a trouble maker. _He shook his head. All this time spent trying to help others, only to draw to the conclusion all he ever had done was hurt them. _I should be dead already..._

oOoOo

Jon paced the front lobby, waiting for Robert. "He better have something good," he said quietly. He continued to pace, a habit he'd picked up this week.

Bobby wasn't any better, in fact he paced with Jon. The two occasionally stopping to share an idea. It drove Joe crazy, but if it kept them sane he'd allow it. At least to an extent.

Joe had been watching Jon and Bobby pace for the last fifteen minutes as he also waited for Robert. "Baker...Nelson, I hate to interrupt," he started, watching as Jon and Bobby both paused "but uh...you think you can take a seat and try to relax a little?"

Jon's eyes widened, his mouth opening about to snap at his sergeant. His inner peacekeeper that usually kept him calm and collected had taken a vacation as Jon continued to act out of character. All due to the stress, worry and lack of sleep.

Bobby took a seat not ready to get into trouble with Joe.

Joe braced himself for Jon to yell, but Jon had barely gotten the word "Sarge" out before Robert entered the building.

Joe pointed, and Jon spun on his heels, turning to face the eldest Poncherello sibling.

"Hi, I'll make this quick," Robert said. "I couldn't talk over the phone because the risk was too high of someone listening in. I know where Ponch is-."

_I knew it! _Bobby hopped to his feet, backing off slightly, when Jon held out his hand in a silent motion to ask Bobby to back off. This was his partner they were talking about. He needed to ask the questions.

"Where is he? Is he alive? Please tell me he's okay!?" Jon felt relief knowing he would soon have a chance to see Ponch again. It'd only been a week, but it felt like months.

Robert nodded slightly. "He's alive," he replied. "Follow me, I'll take you there. Bring back up. There are five guys. All with guns. I'll take you in through the basement, so you can get to Ponch first...and trust me this is important."

Jon nodded not wanting to waste any more time. He said nothing, as he and Bobby followed Robert out the door, while Joe gathered back up.

oOoOo

_It was a cold winter day, winter didn't seem to exist in California though. No snow on the ground, only green grass and clear sidewalks. The first day of spring was on its way fast, but seven year old Frank Poncherello wanted winter to last longer. Maybe they'd see snow like in the movies. Very unlikely, but he could keep dreaming. _

_He walked down to a small brick building a couple blocks from school. His Dad worked there, what he did Ponch wasn't sure, but he had agreed to walk to his dad's office everyday after school, then Alfred would bring him home when he got off work. Which was generally around the same time his son showed up. _

_The door was open, Ponch didn't think much of it. Though usually the door was closed, someone had propped it open. As he approached he saw his Dad carrying a box out to the car. He talked quietly to himself, worrying about his family and how he was going to tell them he'd been fired. He hoped to have more time to process it before his youngest child showed up ready to go home. _

_That wasn't the case however. "Daddy!" Ponch exclaimed, as he excitedly rushed to hug his father. "Are you going somewhere?" _

_Alfred tried to force a smile to act like all was okay. "No, no everything is fine," he said. _

_"You think we'll see snow before spring?" Ponch asked, looking up at his dad with pleading eyes as if he expected his Dad to make it snow. _

_How could he tell him no? "Maybe not this year, but I'm sure we'll see snow." The answer wasn't popular, as Ponch continued to ask every year after that. _

* * *

Ponch woke up, the memories were sweet at the moment. The memories taking his mind off his pain the physical and the mental.

All the times his Dad had promised someday they'd see snow. He tried to hold him to it, even if it wasn't in California, they would visit somewhere with snow. The years had passed by quickly, he still hadn't seen snow. Before Alfred died he told Robert he needed to make sure Ponch got to go somewhere with snow. Something Robert wasn't able to help with, due to Ponch not wanting that anymore. All he wanted was to be with his Dad again. Yes Alfred Poncherello wasn't perfect... but that was his Dad. And he loved his Dad.

More tears began forming. _I would give anything to have you back... _he glanced at the knife again, blinking the tiredness from his eyes. _I wanna be with you...I can't do this anymore..._

oOoOo

Jon followed Robert through a door that led straight into the basement of the house. Joe and the officers he'd gathered for back up were stationed around the house, ready to raid it, and catch Leonard and his men. While they did that, Robert insisted Jon find and help Ponch. He knew why Leonard had left the knife, and he hoped they weren't too late.

Bobby wanted to go, but Jon had insisted he stay with Joe. He didn't need Bobby getting in the way.

Jon walked slowly to the door, looking around carefully to make sure no one was around. It was deathly quiet. Robert stood behind him for back-up, though Jon wasn't so sure how much he could trust Robert because he had been working for Leonard. What if this was a trap?

Jon glanced over his shoulder once more, before opening the door.

The door handle moving, caused Ponch to jump. _I- I thought he wasn't coming back? _He took a deep shaky breath, preparing to be yelled at or hit again. He hadn't been fitting back. Something unusual, but what was the point in fighting? He tried not to move much, he'd finally found a comfortable position to sit that made any physical pain feel less intense. Giving him a slight breather, but not enough to ignore it all.

Jon stepped in, though the room was dimly lit he could see the knife in Ponch's hand. "Ponch? What are you-'

Ponch looked towards him. "J-Jon?" Feeling overwhelmed with many different emotions, Ponch couldn't bring himself to drop the knife like Jon was going to ask. He couldn't. He swallowed hard, before slowly moving farther back towards the corner of the room, and wincing in pain. The knife already lightly pressed against his wrist, but not enough to break the skin.

Jon took another step into the room. "Ponch, hey relax-"

"Relax?" Ponch rolled his eyes. "You know how many times I've heard that? It doesn't make me feel any better."

Jon took another cautious step forward. As he did, he could hear the sound of Getraer's voice upstairs yelling freeze. He bit his lip to keep from smiling. Joe caught the bad guys. _Thank God. _"Ponch-" Jon tried to search for the words to say. He'd had a week to think of something, but he'd never thought this would actually happen. "Ponch, put the knife down." That was a start.

Ponch shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't look at Jon, all his focus on the knife._just get it over with...I don't have to say anything... _He changed his mind rather quickly, and spoke quietly. "All I wanted was to help people. I screwed up."

Jon stood still and quiet, listening to Ponch. _come on, partner...drop the knife. _

"My Dad meant everything to me, Jon. I had a hard time expressing it to him. I'll admit I was a handful. Maybe a little too much sometimes..." He paused. "I didn't mean to upset him. I really didn't."

Robert glanced at Jon, then to Ponch. "Frank hey, Dad's death wasn't your fault."

Ponch shook his head. "I could've prevented it. We were supposed to hang out that day...I could tell something was off about him, and I didn't know how to handle it. I snuck out to be with some friends instead. When I came home-' He paused again, leaning his head against the wall, more tears forming. "When I came home, he wasn't sitting on the front porch, waiting to welcome me like he always did. I never realized how much I enjoyed that, until he wasn't there..." Ponch trailed off, not ready to continue that story. Other stories flooded his mind. Did Jon need answers? What if Ponch would never be ready to talk...? He looked up at the ceiling a moment. _Grossie would probably tell him. _He thought. _I hope not. _

Jon's eyes widened slightly. "Ponch... Ponch no don't blame yourself."

"Dad was dead. I could have prevented it...if I didn't leave, he wouldn't have done it. I would have been there.'

"Okay, so maybe not that day. But what about when you went to school, he could have done it then. Would you still blame yourself? Say you shouldn't have gone to school? Frank, you couldn't have done anything."

"I could have talked to him." He looked at Robert. "When he died...I was angry. I was confused...mom threw his stuff out so fast. I thought she was being heartless. I understand now just seeing his stuff sitting around hurt her more... getting rid of it helped her say goodbye better. I don't know." Ponch bit the inside of his lip. "I spent years thinking about it. I'm still thinking about it...what if there was something I could have done to prevent it?"

Jon shook his head, taking another step closer. "Ponch, I know this isn't the time to tell. But I lied about Gary. His death was suicide. I know how you feel. I might not know the whole situation, but I know it's not your fault."

Ponch blinked, trying to force back more tears, it didn't work. His vision grew blurry, blocked by tears. "I know. I heard about Gary," Ponch said quietly. He looked at Jon. _I should have figured that out a while ago. Even if I didn't, I should have seen the pain you've been hiding. I couldn't help you either. _Ponch thought before continuing. "I failed you too, partner."

"Failed me? Ponch, no."

Ponch glanced the knife, the answer painfully clear in his mind. He couldn't talk anymore, it wouldn't fix anything. He couldn't change anything._ I have to die. I don't belong here._ "Jon, I'm sorry. " Ponch bit his lip, fighting hard with words he never wanted to hear himself say, he couldn't avoid it now. It was what he believed to be true. "I'm just not strong enough anymore," he said quietly, feeling no need to layout all the many reasons he'd drawn to this conclusion.

"Ponch no!" Jon cried, as he saw Ponch press the knife down into his wrist.


	10. Chapter 10

Jon rushed to Ponch's side. _WHY!? _His mind screamed. "Ponch, hey..." he said quietly, as he ripped part of his uniform shirt to make a bandage. "Someone call an ambulance!" he yelled.

Ponch shook his head, trying to push Jon's hand away. "Jon...no."

Jon couldn't believe he heard those words come from his best friends mouth. "Ponch, don't argue with me!" Jon ran on about 90% panic in the second he noticed blood he immediately told himself it was bad. He wasn't sure how bad though, fear kept him from checking. Ignoring Ponch's attempt to push him away, Jon wrapped his wrist. _I'm not losing you. _He thought, he could see the fear and pain reflecting from Ponch's dark brown eyes. He knew Ponch was scared, he wished there was more he could do.

He wished he knew more. He knew Ponch was upset over his Dad, but was that the extent of it? Jon couldn't help but feel he was missing a few stories.

Ponch didn't talk back at Jon. Something Robert found odd, before Jon even noticed how uncharacteristically quiet Ponch was.

"Ponch..." Jon started, as he tried to help his friend to his feet. "The ambulance won't make it in time. I have to get you out of here myself," Jon said, his mind thinking rationally for a moment. _Please let us make it in time. _He took a shaky breath, as he finally got Ponch up.

Standing for the first time in a week, Ponch's whole body protested. He cried out; while trying his best to get Jon to let him sit back down. The struggle was worse than he had hoped for, as Jon wasn't letting go. "J-Jon... Jon, please..." He could barely get out, trying to put most of his work into breathing.

Jon held on, supporting his best friend, trying to help him walk. "Hey, hey you're going to be okay," Jon assured. He had no idea.

Tears formed, threatening to fall. _It's not okay! _Ponch's mind screamed, but he couldn't argue with Jon. Too much work.

Seeing his friend in so much pain, Jon knew he needed to change his approach to getting them outside. He had to think of something fast too, Ponch needed medical attention. _An ambulance wouldn't make it in time, _He thought, reminding himself once more. _B__ut how can I get Ponch to the car without hurting him more than I have? _Jon felt he finally understood why Ponch hadn't wanted to move. _I'm causing him more pain..._ Jon felt a tear slip from his eye. He tried to lower Ponch back to the ground, but his friends quick protest showed Jon he was once again messing up. _I can't get anything right! _

"What do I need to do to help you?" Jon asked, trying to let Ponch lean on him.

"Carry him," Robert suggested, not allowing Ponch to come up with a suggestion. Already assuming the suggestion would be to just leave him.

Jon glanced at Ponch, and didn't give him a chance to respond, before he picked him up. He almost changed his mind at the cry of protest mixed with pain. Then he shook his head. _It's the only way...you're doing the right thing. _He told himself, but he wasn't so sure. He started to head for the door, quickening his pace.

_Baker, you're crazy! Getraer's out there... he can't see me like this! _His mind screamed, but instead of saying anything, Ponch closed his eyes. He tried to relax his breathing. He already knew his cut wasn't as bad as Jon thought it was. _I should have cut deeper..._tears formed in his eyes.

Jon was just going to get him help.

Joe was going to find out Ponch lied, as of he hadn't already figured that out... and then...then he might lose his job. Officers were supposed to have good mental health at all times, what was Joe going to do when he knew one of his officers was suicidal? That he actually tried to kill himself... _A weak attempt..._Ponch sighed, glancing to his wrist a moment. "I can't even get that right..." He didn't realize he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

Jon glared at him. "Ponch, snap out of it. You're going to be okay. You...you don't really want to die." Jon didn't know what to say, but knew he wasn't being helpful in the least bit. Jon carried Ponch outside, glancing around for a car he could take. He would have taken Ponch on his bike, but if Ponch got worse, how could Jon expect him to hold onto him, and not fall off the motorcycle or let go?

"We'll take my car," Robert suggested.

"I'll escort you to the hospital," Grossie said, seeing them come out. He already knew Jon wanted to stay with Ponch.

Jon nodded, heading for the car.

"I'm coming with you," Bobby insisted as he rushed over.

Jon didn't have time to argue, his mind preoccupied on trying to figure out how to help his best friend.

Bobby slipped into the backseat, then helped Jon and Ponch get in.

Getraer was loading the bad guys into Bear and Jeb's patrol cars when he noticed Jon heading for Robert's blue station wagon, which was parked out front near the several police cars and motorcycles. He saw Ponch in Jon's arms, his body so still. He would have thought Ponch would protest to being carried, or fake being okay so he could walk and make Getraer think he was fine. But this...this was bad. He looked at Leonard, anger boiling inside him.

He didn't need to open his mouth, Leonard already knew why he was getting that look from the police sergeant. "So much for looking out for your own," Leonard started, glancing towards Ponch and Jon. "He was going to commit suicide whether I kidnapped him or not."

"S-suicide?" Bear blinked. He looked at Jeb, then to Joe.

Joe leaned against the door, his face by the window that had been rolled down slightly for fresh air, but not enough anyone could crawl out. "What did you do to him!?" He demanded. He would have grabbed the guy by his shirt collar and shaken him, had there not been a door separating them. He didn't want to believe Ponch attempted suicide in there. He couldn't...Jon was right there, surely that could have been enough to stop him, right?

Leonard chuckled softly, like Joe's anger was a joke. "He was your officer. Surely you would have known he wanted to die. Maybe this is all your fault, you're the sergeant."

Having already blamed himself for any suicidal thoughts to ever come from his men, Joe felt Leonard's words hit hard like a punch to the gut. It couldn't really be his fault, could it? He shook his head, that anger once again resurfacing. "Now you listen here-' he started, pointing his finger at Leonard as his voice rose. He didn't finish, his sentence interrupted by a sudden cry of pain from Robert's car, along with Jon yelling at Robert "we have to go NOW."

Joe turned to see if he could figure the scene out, but they drove past before he had the chance. He turned back to Leonard, ready to pull him out of the car, and slam him against it to demand answers. Bear grabbed him before he had a chance. "Sarge, we'll handle this," he said in a low voice, so the criminals wouldn't hear.

oOoOo

Joe rode down to the hospital as quickly as he could. When he arrived, he immediately started a search for Jon, Bobby and Robert.

On the back wall in the E.R. waiting room, Jon sat in an uncomfortable chair. Leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. Beside him sat Robert, who sat silently staring at the wall in front of him. Across the hall at the vending machine Bobby started on his second package of m&ms

Joe rushed over, hoping that Jon would look up when he felt Joe's presence, but it wasn't the case. Joe reached forward, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder. This causing Jon to jump, he looked up.

"Jon? Jon, what happened?"

The urgency in his voice showed Jon just how concerned Joe really was. Too bad Ponch couldn't have been there to see it, he never did believe Joe liked him. He wiped at the tears in his eyes, already knowing that they would only continue. "H-He...he tried to kill himself, Joe," Jon said quietly. He couldn't bring himself to share more than that, and Joe could already tell he wasn't going to get anything out of Robert. He couldn't even imagine how hard the car ride over must have been.

He took a seat, shaking his head. _Why didn't I catch this sooner? _He thought. _Why..._


	11. Chapter 11

Jon began to pace the waiting area, as minutes turned to an hour. What was going on? Was Ponch alive? Was he being difficult? Jon shook his head at the last one. It's Ponch, of course he would be a little difficult.

The thought didn't comfort him.

In the waiting room patients and visitors had been in and out. Every so often another CHP officer popping in only for Getraer to eventually tell them to get back on the streets.

Bobby had been taken home by Jeb. Joe didn't think getting back to work would be good for him and he didn't want to keep him at the hospital with all the m&ms and vending machines. He needed to go home and relax or at least try.

Jon glanced at the clock again. _It's been an hour and fifteen minutes..._he thought, shaking his head.

Robert hadn't moved from his chair, still staring straight forward. Glued in place like a statue. Jon hoped he was okay, though knew he wouldn't be. _He'll need a lot more time to recover. _He thought, then sighed knowing he'd probably have to serve some time behind bars for being involved with the criminal bunch. _I'll do what I can to help you. For Ponch's sake. _He thought, as he continued pacing.

Joe watched from his chair. "Baker, why don't you have a seat?" He suggested.

Either Jon hadn't heard him, or he had opted to ignore him; Jon continued to pace.

"You'll wear a hole into the floor," Joe commented. A poor attempt at an overused joke. _I shouldn't be making jokes during this_. Joe shook his head. He knew he had meant no harm in it, but there was no telling how Jon would react.

Still no reaction from Jon.

Joe shook his head. "Listen, I know you're worried about Frank. We all are, but pacing and working yourself up isn't going to do any good-'

"Sarge, my best friend attempted suicide. If you're about to tell me to sit down and relax-' Jon started, raising his voice. He stopped, letting out a sigh. "Sorry." He sat. "I'm worried."

"As you should be." Joe lightly squeezed Jon's shoulder hoping to provide some comfort.

Jon nodded, ready to reply, but instead he found himself jumping to his feet again as a doctor approached. "Please tell me you're here about Frank Poncherello?"

The doctor nodded. "Are you family?"

"Close enough, I'm his best friend." Jon turned motioning to Joe "And this is his sergeant."

Joe stood. "How is he?'

The doctor eyed them a moment before deciding to converse with them. Knowing Joe was the sergeant confirmed in his mind that Ponch's family would have been contacted by now it was afterall Joe's job, right? "Well, in short he has a couple bruised ribs, along with bruises and lacerations of various sizes all over. But mainly along the abdomen. He doesn't seem to have any extremely severe injuries. The bruises ribs are making breathing painful for him, so we have tried to give him something for the pain. He seemed to be doing well at that point, injuries aside. We stitched up this wrist and arm, you're lucky you arrived when you did."

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but everything you have mentioned so far doesn't seem like anything that would have taken an hour and twenty minutes to fix," Jon cut in.

The doctor nodded. "I was getting to that." He let out a quiet sigh. "He had lost a significant amount of blood due to the severity of his cut."

Joe looked at him, and shook his head. "Now wait a minute. I was under the impression it wasn't that bad." He glanced at Jon.

Jon bit his lip."When we got him to the car he was crying and saying something about how he couldn't let himself fail.' Jon swallowed hard. "I tried to stop him..." He felt tears threatening to fall. "I should have made sure he didn't have the knife anymore before we left." He looked away as shame and guilt hit hard, the feeling making him nauseous. "I was more concerned about getting him outside." Jon wiped at his eyes. "If it hadn't been for Bobby, I might not have gotten the knife away from Ponch."

The doctor nodded, not having anything to add and wanting to get through with this conversation. "We had to make sure he received more blood to make up for what was lost."

Joe's eyes widened. "It was that bad!?" He made a mental note to talk to Bobby later and thank him.

The doctor only bit the inside of his lip.

"He's okay now, right?" Jon asked cautiously.

"He's stable." The doctor nodded. "He has been placed in a room for observation. In an hour when he is more awake we will have a therapist come in and do a psych evaluation. If you want to see him before then, I can take you to his room now. But you must be quiet and respect his decision if he chooses not to see you."

"I have to make a phone call to his family," Joe informed. Really he wanted to make an attempt to get Robert back into reality.

Jon nodded. _I have to see him. I have to make some sense of this. _He followed the doctor to Ponch's room. Each step he felt a different emotion as he still tried to process it all.

Thank God they'd gotten him to the hospital before it was too late. Jon still had hardly recovered from Gary's death he couldn't bear to lose Ponch too on top of it. _And both were suicides. _He shook his head. Why?

First he had felt relief. There was a certain feeling of comfort knowing his friend was still alive. Perhaps maybe now he'd have the chance to help him? To prevent something he still wasn't so sure he understood.

The relief soon morphing into confusion and regret.

He knew the feeling of wanting to die. He knew sometimes he would have rather been dead than alive. It would pass quickly and he'd never thought of acting on it. _Why couldn't I keep Ponch from going through with this? _

Jon knew pain. He knew loss. What he couldn't wrap his mind around was how someone could live everyday wanting to die. Wishing their life was over. Every waking moment dealing with physical and/or psychological pain that seemed to have no end. That would torment them, even on a day that could have been good. It wasn't that they didn't want to be happy. If happiness were that easy to obtain everyone would. _Wouldn't they? _

There were people... people he knew well and loved, that had been trapped under the dark rain cloud of depression. There were people he knew that had flirted with the idea of death for far to long. Their silent cries for help were just that. Silent. Not because they wanted to be silent, but because no one wants to bring attention to their pain. No one wants to openly admit they aren't okay. _But why? I sensed the pain a few times why didn't I do anything? How was I blind all the other times? When he stabbed his hamburger to death that one day..._ Jon thought back to a week or so ago. _When he did that...was that his way of sharing how he had been thinking about suicide... but without actually saying so? _

Society would deem them as weak or attention seeking if they tried to openly discuss feelings. Society would call them crazy. Or say they deserve what they go through. That they had no right to complain. So instead they have learned to stay silent. Fight their battles alone. Hope for the best. Work towards something better..._No one should have to suffer like that. _Jon shook his head. People are too afraid of what others will think if they share about their mental health. _And that fear was created by us. _

His hands clenching into tight fists at his sides, while he continued down the hall. "How did we go so wrong?' he didn't realize he was thinking aloud now. The doctor didn't seem to notice. "How can we fix it?"

Though he acknowledged Ponch must be in a great deal of pain, he couldn't help but feel angry and still confused. _Why couldn't he have talked to me? _He wondered as he reached Ponch's room. He knew in the back of his mind he'd already answered the question on his way over.

He took a deep breath, before entering. Prepared for anything. He found his friend lying in a bed in the middle of a nearly empty room. The young Puerto Rican officer had barely stirred when Jon entered.

Trying to sleep, but failing. _Just another thing to add to the list of things you can't do. _Ponch thought, before opening his eyes. "Baker?" He started quietly.

Jon smiled. "Hey, partner." Jon approached the bed. "You have no idea how relieved I am you're going to be okay."

Nothing hurt more than hearing those few words. How could he let Jon down again? He knew he couldn't lie it would only hurt Jon more if he did. He glanced at the blonde officer. "But I'm not okay...' he said quietly.

Jon stood beside the bed finally. "What do you mean? You're alive... Ponch, you're going to be okay," Jon's voice grew shaky as he continued. The same lifeless look he'd seen in his friends eyes back in that basement was still there. "Ponch... please. Please tell me you're okay."

"Jon...I still want to die." Ponch looked away.

Jon's heart dropped. _This is my fault. I should have talked to him sooner. I should have been there for him...I should have... _the inner monologue in Jon's head trailed off, as he finally found his own voice. "why?" Was all he could get out. "Why?'


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: just a few quick things before you read the chapter. 1. I bumped the rating up to M mainly because of the highly sensitive topic of suicide and going more in depth with mental illness. The next few chapters have the potential of being highly triggering. So proceed with caution. 2. I noticed in an earlier chapter I mention the Internet but never addressed the time period. This is loosely between 2019 and 2020. I would go full into 2020 to bring in additional topics such as covid-19 but I wanted your input first before bringing it in. Are you okay with covid showing up in here? (None of the main characters will get it.) Then third and lastly: there are many unanswered questions in this chapter that will for sure have answers/explanations in later chapters. _

_That is all. _

Jon sat in a waiting room chair, staring up at the ceiling. Why couldn't he help his friend? Where did he go wrong?

Down the hall in a hospital bed his best friend was suffering. Jon tried to wrap his mind around it all, as he had been trying to do for months. He couldn't understand why someone would want to die so badly, and no matter what, it seemed like there was no escape. "I know what pain feels like. I miss Gary badly, and think about joining him...but I don't sit on that thought every single waking moment of my life. As much as I would like to move on I **_can't _**fully move on. That was my best friend." Jon paused, tears rolling down his cheeks. "And...I wish there were more I could do for Ponch. I didn't catch the signs before Gary died, but I caught on too late when Ponch tried. I-" Jon shook his head. "I thought about dying once or twice, I was and still am in pain from the loss... but I don't want to die."

On the other end of the phone, Jeb yawned. Not from boredom he listened to every word, his eyelids growing heavier from tiredness. "I know he blames himself for his Dad's suicide." He yawned again. "At least that's what Grossie said, I don't know his sources. But I'm sure there's a lot more to it than that. I wish I had answers for you."

Jon sighed. "I wish I had answers too." His mind wandered to Bobby now. He hadn't talked to him since yesterday, was he doing okay? He opened his message app, while he listened to Jeb talk. He saw messages from Grossie. Opening them he completely forgot about Bobby.

_'Suicidal Ideation.' _Grossie sent. _'When you constantly thinking about, or extensively plan for suicide. Major depressive disorder usually will come first. Sometimes the depression is caused by anxiety or fear of something happening again or feeling inadequate (in general or situational ). The anxiety leads to a depressive state, which can worsen and eventually turn to suicidal ideation with major depressive disorder. It's not uncommon. Especially after what all he's been through, Jon. Maybe even things we don't know about. Someone with depression isn't going to just walk right up to you and admit it. Most the time they want help or want to get better, but it's also hard to admit there is a problem...that would be the first step to getting help.' _He sent the second text, causing Jon's phone to buzz as he continued talking to Jeb.

Jon glanced over it as he debated whether or not to hang up and let Jeb sleep. "I forgot I was talking to Grossie," he said quietly to himself.

_'Oh, I forgot to mention that sometimes anxiety doesn't cause depression. However in a lot of cases anxiety and depression will often work together.' _

Jon glanced at the new message. Quickly saying goodbye to Jeb he hung up diverting his attention to this conversation. He knew Grossie would have input and facts about mental health. Suggestions he was sure the doctors knew already, but it was nice to get some answers that made sense. _ 'But he's not just thinking or planning he's going through with it!' _

Jon had gotten home around midnight after a long conversation with Ponch that seemed to have gotten no where. Feeling exhausted he left to let his friend get some sleep. He needed it himself.

Barely an hour later he was awoken by a phone call from a doctor who said Ponch had gotten ahold of some pain meds and overdosed. They were in the process of pumping his stomach.

The news made Jon feel sick himself. As he sat in the waiting room growing pale from worry he felt thankful Jeb had called.

Waking up from a dead sleep, Jeb had this weird feeling something bad had happened. He felt certain calling Jon had been the right thing to do. Afterall Jon seemed to need someone to talk to.

Grossie had been sitting up all night doing extensive research on mental illness and searching for help. He had texted Jon not because he knew what happened, but to check in on Ponch's condition he hadn't expected the news he soon received.

_'If it is what I mentioned, which I'm sure it is. That would mean he already had a plan and probably back up plans and more plans in case things didn't work, and the fact that Robert came to you *before* Ponch even attempted anything and you got there while he was still thinking *could* mean that he was coming up with more plans. I don't know, Jon. I wish I had seen the signs sooner...I feel like I failed him.' _

Jon shook his head. _'I should have been the one to catch it. This is my fault. Again.: _

Jon received no reply. He sighed, running his fingers anxiously through his messy blonde hair. _Man, I can't imagine the physical pain he must be in right now on top of it all. He could hardly breathe earlier_. He shook his head again.

He slowly stood ready to begin pacing again, when he noticed a man coming his direction. He looked away a brief moment to wipe his eyes free from any possible tears.

"Jon?" The man said as he came closer. The voice seemed familiar. A tired, yet deeply caring sergeant who had woken from a not so peaceful sleep only to receive the news he'd been dreading, but somehow knew would come.

"Sarge, it's early" Jon started.

Joe waved him off. "I don't care. I wouldn't be here if I did."

Jon nodded, taking a seat back in the corner by the wall.

Joe sat beside him. "Anything new?"

Jon sighed. "The last time I spoke with the doctor was around one when they called. I just hope they can save him...and help him. Joe, be honest with me..." Jon swallowed hard the question not one he'd ever thought he'd be asking. "Do you think he'll get better? Will he ever be the same?"

"I don't know." Getraer looked away. He'd always wanted to believe Ponch would be fine. That he'd be one of the very best officers until he retired. He never once thought 'oh he'll be good now, but in a few short years I'll lose him to suicide.' No one plans on that. "I want to believe he's okay. That this is all one big nightmare and any moment we'll wake up and everything will be okay." He shook his head, his hands balling into tight fists. "It isn't fair. He doesn't deserve to suffer like this! He deserves happiness and life every bit as much as the rest of us!"

Jon blinked. He'd seen Joe angry before, but that usually only happened at work. He agreed though Glancing up he saw a doctor approaching, the look on his face quite grim.

Jon's face paled the look all too familiar. _oh no...please no..._


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: JediJelsa777 thanks so much for your input! I did have an idea, but I forgot to write it down and now it's lost lol. So I probably won't be adding covid in at all. Especially knowing now how you would feel about it. :) thanks again! Tbh it probably wouldn't have fit with the story and where it's going. So idk I was just lightly thinking about it. _

**_Warning: This chapter contains mentions of rape and a serial killer as well as mentions of suicide_****_and mental health/illness. (just be warned the next chapters will have this same warning. The whole story has the suicide/mental illness warning, but I just wanted to add a warning again.) I should have added the warning in earlier. Just another note be warned there will be more topics popping up in here. And I am trying to be sensitive of all my readers. So I hope the warnings are helpful. :)_**

Jon woke up seated in a chair beside Ponch's bed. It didn't take a lot of convincing before the doctor agreed Jon being in the room might help improve Ponch's mood. He had informed him that when Ponch's injuries had healed if he wasn't doing any better he'd more than likely end up in the psych wing of the hospital. Right now it was too risky to move him there with his current physical condition. They had to monitor him closely and had a therapist in there every morning.

The doctors words replayed in Jon's mind as if he were listening to a tape on repeat. _'i can tell he hasn't been eating much lately. Longer than a week.' _the doctor had pointed out. _'his body can't take much more of this.' _

Jon glanced to his friend lying so still in his hospital bed. Even in his sleep he didn't look at peace. Jon could never forget the dead look in his eyes. He couldn't imagine what he must be feeling now with two attempts and the doctors stopped both. What was to stop him from trying something again?

Jon had hoped being at the hospital would have done that, but the doctors weren't taking him seriously at the time. When Ponch snuck out to find something to help with the pain the doctor didn't notice. Ponch wasn't supposed to be up, and he knew it. Every step he knew it, but did that stop him?

Tears had stayed in the corners of Jon's eyes. Sometimes they'd fall, but for the most part they stayed at surface. He couldn't deny that when he had met Ponch, Ponch already was troubled. He'd hung out with the wrong crowds and got himself into trouble. Jon couldn't help but wonder if even at that time this was what Ponch wanted. _Robert said you wanted to die when you were younger too...when __have you wanted to live? _ Jon shook his head.

Getraer had stayed the first few hours after the doctor let them in the room. He couldn't go home to sleep until he had calmed his nerves and convinced himself Ponch would make it through the night. Jon on the other hand wasn't going to leave him again. What if he was successful in killing himself the next time Jon left?

Jon remembered his conversation with Grossie. It seemed so long ago, but in reality it had only been a few hours since they chatted. Something saiid had left Jon even more on edge. _'he probably planned out his suicide and then made many other back up plans before going through with it.' _ His mind paraphrased the words only remembering the parts that scared him the most.

How long had his friend been planning his own death? Did he really come up with more than one different ways to do it? Why? Why hadn't he been eating? Jon remembered back to their last meal together.

All Ponch did was stab his burger with a broken fork. Was that a sign? The stabbing for death...the broken fork for brokenness? He replayed all the most recent gatherings and parties. Ponch had only shown up to a couple. There was one in particular Jon remembered that he hadn't ever brought up since that night.

They had been at Bear's place celebrating his birthday...

_Jon stood in the doorway of the open kitchen. Seeing past to the living room and hall. Officers all around were in the kitchen and living room chatting and playing games. He scanned the crowd for his partner who he was sure would be at the center of attention as usual. Though he didn't notice him there at all. _

_"I know I saw him come in," Jon said to himself. _

_"Who, Ponch?" Barry asked walking up behind him, squeezing past to grab some cake. _

_"Yeah, he's here right?" Jon turned, watching as Bear quickly stuffed a piece of cake in his mouth to avoid answering questions. Jon had noted that was odd, so he waited on an explanation. When none was coming, he stopped Bear before he could leave the kitchen. "Come on, Barry. If you know something-" he started. _

_"Ponch is here. I uh...let him sleep in the guest room." Bear swallowed his cake. "He said he didn't sleep good last night." _

_Jon raised an eyebrow, he didn't remember Ponch mentioning that at work. But he could tell Bear was hiding something. Perhaps keeping a secret?_

Jon blinked, he glanced at Ponch then to his phone. Debating on whether or not he should call Bear. Maybe he had a piece to the puzzle, to help make sense of everything. Jon had noticed how distant Bear was these days. He definitely knew something.

Pulling out his phone he dialed a number he knew by heart, since he'd called so much. Usually for friendly conversation. At this point in time Jon felt responsible for finding out all the answers behind Ponch's suicide attempts. He needed to put the pieces together so he could better help his friend. That was okay, right?

It took a few minutes before Bear answered. "Hello?" His voice was quiet and tired, like he hadn't been sleeping.

"Barry, we need to talk. Are you free this afternoon?"

Bear hesitated, almost certain he knew what this was about. "Meet me at my place at 1," he said finally.

Jon nodded. They chatted a few more minutes, then Jon hung up and texted Grossie to ask of he could come sit with Ponch this afternoon.

Grossie agreed to come, and figured if Ponch was awake maybe they'd talk. He had been up all night the past couple nights researching more into depression, anxiety, suicide and anything else he could think of. He did his best to try and understand the psychological side of everything, before taking himself to his friend and attempting a difficult conversation. What Jon didn't realize was that Bear and Grossie both were at least two steps ahead of him in finding out what was going on.

oOoOo

Bear paced his living room, sighing loudly. It was nice and cool in the room, yet he felt his brow growing increasingly moist from sweat. Worry. Should he tell Jon what he knew? Or should he continue to keep secrets for Ponch's sake. It wasn't his story to tell, yet here he was one of the only two knowing what happened, and he didn't know if he should bring the subject to light. "Jon's been in the dark a while," he muttered. "But Ponch was never ready to talk about this publicly." He shook his head, slowly sinking down into his chair by the window. "Whatever you say, Baricza let's hope it's the right choice," he coached himself, as the door handle turned. Jon was letting himself in.

Jon rushed over, taking a seat in the chair next to Bear. Obviously in a hurry or eager to get the conversation going. "I can't help but feel like if I'm gone too long something will happen to Ponch," Jon confessed as he could see the look of shock on Bear's face.

"Okay...so what did you want to talk about?" Bear played the 'i don't know why you're here' card, hoping it was convincing.

"I want to talk about that party. Uh, your birthday party."

"Oh, right," Bear replied as if he didn't know already.

The room grew silent a moment, as Bear bounced his leg anxiously. Rehearsing every word before he spoke. He shook his head. "I can't lie to him," he said quietly.

Jon leaned forward. "I never asked you to." He cleared his throat, "I just want to know what was up with Ponch that I didn't know. It could be useful information."

Bear clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles turning a shade lighter than his usual skin tone. "Jon, Grossie and I...we promised Ponch we wouldn't say anything. I don't want to lose his trust, so I don't want to break the promise. It's not my story to tell."

"C'mon, Baricza," Jon pleaded. "My best friend is in the hospital for multiple suicide attempts. That's on top of the injuries he sustained while being held hostage. I know he's upset about his dad's suicide still. I know, that pain will...it will never go away." Jon paused, his mind wandering back to Gary for a moment. _Gary would have figured this out...why can't you? _He thought, then shook his head. "I _**know **_you are hiding something from that night. Maybe even something past that or before. Whatever it is I want to know. I want to help him. Please, Barry."

Bear looked away a moment, hoping it could make his decision easier. It didn't. Jon seemed desperate. _I'm sorry, Ponch. _Bear let out a sigh, he looked around as if worried someone would come out from the kitchen or let themselves in while he was talking. A highly unlikely scenario, but he needed to reassure himself. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to bring it up to Ponch. I don't want to cause any trouble for him."

Jon nodded.

Bear glanced to the ceiling for a moment. _why did I just agree to this? _"Grossie and I...uh we've been trying to protect Ponch. Make him feel safe. Something happened at his apartment a few months ago and now he has trouble sleeping at night. That's all," Bear said quickly, doing his best to remain as vague as possible.

Jon blinked. "That's it?" His voice reflected the annoyance he felt. "Bear, I was expecting-'

"Fine!" Bear cut him off. "Let me start from the beginning. But once again, if you even so much as make a suggestion you know about what happened I'm never speaking to you again." Bear knew that was harsh, and probably unlikely. But he didn't want to risk Ponch's friendship on Jon's nosiness.

Jon nodded again.

"It all started a few months ago, Jon. You remember that man Getraer warned us about?"

"Sarge warns us about a lot of guys Bear," Jon replied with a small chuckle.

"The rapist and murderer," Bear said quietly, he couldn't remember the guys name but it didn't feel important to him.

Jon nodded slowly, already starting to hate where this was going. There had been a man Getraer talked about in briefing, that the LAPD was after, Jon remembered this briefing clearly, because of the way Grossie, Bear and Ponch reacted to Getraer bringing up the man who had been out there for weeks. A serial killer who would rape his victims then murder them, most of the time leaving them in a pool of their own blood in their bathtubs.

Jon had felt unsettled by the mention of him, and how apparently he had attempted to murder someone but was nearly caught. Getraer made sure to note that most of the man's victims were male and either firemen or police officers. The man had since then been caught having raped and murdered 10 firemen and police officers and raped an officer who did not end up dead. The man had been at it for several months and Jon had been worried they'd never find him.

Jon was relieved when he heard the man was locked up, but couldn't imagine what that officer who was still alive must be feeling.

He bit his lip, trying to refocus on Barry's talking again. What did this man have to do with Ponch?

"Grossie went to check up on Ponch one night," Bear continued, his fists clenching tighter again. "He had this feeling, like Ponch needed something or he had forgotten to tell him something. He hoped if he showed up he'd remember. When he showed up he had something else on his mind. He heard screaming coming from Ponch's bathroom..." Bear stopped, tears filling his eyes, he cursed under his breath. "I don't know what drives a person to be so evil."

Jon felt anger boiling inside when he pieces the puzzle together. The time frame. Where the screaming came from. The officer who survived... hot angry tears formed in his own eyes. He cursed under his breath. "And...he couldn't tell me..." He started quietly.

"Because it's hard to bring it up Jon. Imagine if that were you, would you want to talk about it? It's-"

"How did you find out?" Jon asked, cutting him off.

"Grossie usually can't keep a secret. He did his best this time, but he brought Ponch to my place that night. Ponch doesn't like to spend a lot of time alone in his apartment anymore. Grossie and I promised to take care of him."

Jon took a deep breath, trying to relax but it was nearly impossible..How could something this horrible happen and he didn't know about it?

Bear sighed. "He's okay though, Jon. I mean... he's alive, and the guy is in prison."

Jon shook his head. "No. No he's not okay, Bear. He was raped!" Jon's face grew red from anger. "The guy is in prison, but that doesn't feel like enough. He raped and murdered 10 people Bear! And he...he hurt my best friend!" Hot angry tears stung at the corners of his blue eyes. "He doesn't feel safe in his apartment, right? That's why he stayed with you?"

Bear nodded.

_Why didn't he talk to me? _Jon felt anger as he left Bear's apartment. How could someone be that horrible? Why did they have to hurt Ponch? Jon's filled with questions.. questions he couldn't answer...at least not yet...


	14. Chapter 14

Grossie sat in a chair beside Ponch's bed, his phone out and open to a game of chess. He would have brought the game over himself, but there were rules against sharing games with patients in Ponch's condition. Grossie wasn't sure how someone could attempt suicide with a chess board, but perhaps they would try to choke on the chess pieces. Would he try that? Grossie shook his head unsure.

"It's your move, Ponch and if I were you I'd take more time on this," Grossie said, handing the phone over.

Ponch accepted it, then stared at the screen.

Grossie felt relieved he'd gotten him to at least play a game. For a while he had just been sitting there in silence, trying to get Ponch to talk. He wondered how well conversations went with Jon or someone else. "You know if you don't start talking they'll probably-" he stopped when Ponch shot him a look.

He handed the phone back, Grossie glanced then his eyes widened. "Ponch, how did you-"

Ponch shrugged, forcing a smile. "You said I needed to pay attention. I just made the right move."

Grossie shook his head. "I don't believe this."

Ponch wished he could laugh, but laughing caused too much pain. If it hadn't been for his rib injuries he still wouldn't have laughed. "I know what you're trying to do, Grossie...and I appreciate it really. But...I'm just not worth saving at this point," he said quietly.

Grossie felt like his heart had shattered into a million pieces when those words left his friends mouth. His heart ached, almost bad enough to bring him to tears. "You might believe that, but I don't."

Ponch laid there quietly, waiting for more to come.

Grossie thought through his words carefully. What could he do?

oOoOo

Jon drove down the freeway heading back to the hospital. The events of the last few months to the last few years playing out in his mind. "How could I have been so blind!? That hamburger wasn't the first sandwich he'd left uneaten and with several stab wounds. Was that a sign of wanting to stab himself?" He bit his lip as he spoke to himself.

"He bought food from the vending machine, but I don't remember him ever eating it," he continued. "He made comments occasionally about his Dad, and there was always a sad look on his eyes. How did I let that slip by for so long? He's been working longer days to avoid going home...and probably to keep his mind busy." Jon hit the steering wheel and cursed. "He came to parties to avoid being alone, but not to socialize. He was with Grossie and Bear more than usual after work. He couldn't sleep... probably nightmares.' Jon sighed as the list continued. _how could I have been so blind!?_

Never again. The words he had spoken the night of Gary's funeral. Never again would he allow someone so close to him to slip away like this. _I'm failing him. _Tears formed in his eyes. _I'm failing him just like I failed Gary. _

Jon parked in the parking garage at the hospital, and sat in his truck, taking a few deep breaths before getting out. "Don't fail him now, Baker."

oOoOo

Tears flowed like a river down the young officers face, as he looked at his friend seated in the chair beside his bed. "They left the bottle in the open. I...I couldn't help myself."

Grossie nodded, mentally taking notes as he listened.

"I took the whole bottle, and all I felt was relief.'

Grossie blinked, the words scaring him. _relief? You felt relief? Ponch...no. _He shook his head, but said nothing, allowing him to continue.

"They saved me again. The doctor said...' Ponch paused, swallowing hard. "He said I need to knock it off, because my body can't take much more of it. Grossie, I don't want them to save me again." He said this, but Grossie saw past it all. Behind the voice of a man who felt so sure he wanted to die was a scared friend who just wanted all the pain to go away. Death seemed like the answer.

"Why?" Grossie asked quietly, trying to be gentle. He didn't want to make Ponch regret talking to him. But the question he asked had been what many were wondering.

Jon had reached the door as he heard Grossie ask the question. He stopped, standing out of sight. Waiting to hear what Ponch would say.

"I don't know, man. I'm tired of breathing and always being in pain. I'm tired of wanting to do the right thing and it ends up being wrong. I'm tired of failing. I'm tired of being afraid of my own home. It's my home, it was my safe space... but it was invaded and I don't feel safe anymore. I open the door and feel this..." He stopped, glancing to Grossie a moment, then away again. "Feel like I can't breathe again. Like there's something or someone on top of me, holding me down, despite my protests...h-hurting me... whispering horrible... disgusting things in my ear, while holding a knife against the back of my neck. I can barely walk through the door without feeling like he's still there..." His heart rate and breathing picked up as he continued.

Jon felt sick listening. How had he not known?

"He broke me..." Ponch said quietly. "And every time I try to move on I can't seem to get past it. He haunts me. Sometimes it's the way someone talks to me, or the look on their face..." He paused. "Or the fact that I should have been killed like the others... but you showed up. Your timing has always been bad, but that time it wasn't. I..." He felt more tears roll down.."I wish I could tell Jon. I just...I can't, I can hardly even talk about it all. I don't want him to see all my pain. I can't...I need to be there for him..."

Grossie nodded, he wanted to interject something, but had been learning to hold his tongue.

Jon bit his lip, holding his own tongue. He wanted to burst into the room and tell Ponch how he wanted to be there for him every bit as much as Ponch wanted to be there for Jon. He had always known there was a lot more going on than the smaller things Ponch would share. He still was shocked at how much he'd learned about Ponch's dad this week that he had never known. He felt regret for not sharing about Gary

"It's not just him though. I think about my Dad a lot...how he died. I should have saved him. Then I think about Jon...all that pain he's been hiding or trying to hide...why can't I help him? I wish there was some way to erase the pain others feel. All that hurt, and make them feel better. I don't want to hurt him anymore... but I don't know if I can do this anymore, Grossie."

"I think the fact your life had been saved three times already this week is a sign it's not your time to go, Ponch," Grossie said quietly. "I know personally I wouldn't be the same without you. All the guys at Central feel the same way, including Sarge. He stayed up all night just to make sure you made it last night. He and Jon were here. I know that might not be helpful to you, but I just want you to know whether you notice it or not you have made a positive impact in all of our lives. And all the people you've saved too. Including dogs."

Jon felt more tears in his eyes. He wasn't sure if now would be a good time to announce his presence or not. He waited.

"You've been through a lot. More than what you or anyone else could handle on their own. Ponch, it's okay to admit you're not okay and seek help. I know that's hard, but it's worth it. You _are _worth fighting for.. You are worth saving. You are one of my best friends, and I know you're hurting. Let me help you. Let us get you the help you need." He paused, knowing he was treading on thin ice here now. He might have already said more than what would be welcome, he could see Ponch shutting him out again. Just with a simple action of turning his head and closing his eyes. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt. He was trying his best, with what little time he had to come up with words.

"Ponch please... just whatever happens. Don't die,' Grossie said finally.

The two words stuck in Ponch's head. Don't die. Why couldn't it be that simple? He remained silent.


	15. Chapter 15

_Authors note: hey guys! A few quick things. 1. There is a reason why people say you shouldn't share a story until it's finished :') why? Because sometimes during the process of writing you find something you forgot to add in so when you go to do the next part you have to go back and fix the beginning. Yeah. So long story short there have been some changes made. Nothing huge just a few added scenes/dialogue...and a character. I added Bobby. 2. I know there is a lot of dislike for Bobby. :') but I wanted to make an attempt to give him a chance. (I myself am not a huge fan of Bobby.) Buuuuuuuuuut I did change the timeline. So for those of you who don't want to go back and re-read chapters just yet or really want to move on I am going to very briefly summarize what in the timeline changed. The rest I can either share with you in a PM or you can read. :D Gary died three years ago (instead of 2), Bobby joined the CHP a year after Gary's death. (I switched a lot of things around and made Bobby a year older than Ponch. (Lol for reasonssss) ) Ponch's dad died 7 years ago instead of 10. Ponch joined the CHP two years after Gary's death. The story still starts directly after Gary's death but then mostly takes place three years after. (I think that's about it. Forgive me if I missed something it is leaking in my bedroom due to heavy rain and a bad roof. So I am missing some sleep, and I'm tired while I'm writing this note. :/) Anyway! If you want me to recap what happened/changed with adding in Bobby lemme know I'll PM you or tell you which chapters to look at. Nothing really significant has changed aside from the timeline. I had to do some changes to help with the next few chapters. And because I found my notes on what should be happening now and realized I messed up in a few spots... I've talked enough now. Moving on! :) _

* * *

_"Grossie, you believe in Bigfoot, right?" Ponch asked, as he and Bobby each took a seat on opposite ends of the table near Grossie. _

_Grossie looked up from his report, "well, I believe there is a possibility he exists. There's a lot of evidence, Ponch." _

_Ponch smiled slightly glancing at Bobby with this triumphant look in his eyes. _

_Bobby rolled his eyes. "Not you too!' _

_Grossie chuckled softly. "I was actually writing something-' he started. _

_"Of course you were," Bobby cut him off, as he stood. He moved across the room heading for the door. He turned suddenly. _

_"If he's out there, then how come we haven't seen him?" Bear asked, as he entered the report room, an amused smile on his face. _

_Bobby turned. "Maybe bigfoots have social anxiety? We shouldn't go looking for them in large groups..."_

_Grossie bit back a smile. "That's not likely, Bobby. However, I do have a th__eory on why we haven't found them yet." He'd hardly gotten the words out before Bobby was out the door, and Bear turned to follow. _

oOoOo

Grossie woke up suddenly, scanning the room he found he had stayed at the hospital longer than he had planned. Ponch laid in bed either asleep or staring at the ceiling, it was too dark to tell if his eyes were open.

Grossie yawned, looking around for Jon. He didn't remember coming back that day. He closed his eyes again, trying to fall asleep, something kept him up though. _Where is Jon? _

Picking up his phone, he sent a quick text out to Jon asking if he was okay. He sighed, as he hit send he noticed a new message. "Bobby?" He said quietly to himself, he couldn't remember the last time Bobby had texted him. He opened the message.

_'I can't sleep. You up?' _the message was delivered at 3 AM. The time was now five. Bobby could have fallen asleep by now, right? Grossie decided not to answer, just in case. If he'd fallen asleep he didn't want to wake him. Besides, he was tired himself.

Yawning once more, Grossie closed his eyes trying to drift off to dream world where he'd been before. As soon as his eyes closed he heard his name.

"Grossie?"

It was Ponch. Grossie shift in his seat to get more comfortable. How long had he been here? He didn't remember falling asleep, and he wished he hadn't. His body felt stiff from sitting in this chair for apparently all day. He stood a moment, despite his body protesting the stretch. He took a deep breath. "Ponch? Did you say something?"

Ponch nodded very slightly. "Jon never came back."

Grossie could hear the hurt in his voice, even if it was so quiet. He felt his own heart breaking again. _I noticed. _He glanced at his phone waiting for a message...An explanation. There was nothing. "I'm sorry." Was all he could get out, but he knew it wasn't enough. There wasn't really anything to say that would fix what Ponch felt right now.

Ponch turned his head towards Grossie. "You stayed all night..."

He nodded tiredly, ready to close his eyes again when he finally noticed another machine in the room. He didn't remember this happening. Ponch's breathing seemed like more of a struggle. There was a steady beeping coming from the new machine. Grossie tried to run the tiredness from his eyes to figure out what it was, his brain was clouded over with sleepiness.

He blinked again, it finally clicking. "Ponch, why's there a heart monitor in here?" He asked with a yawn.

Ponch turned his head, not responding.

At this point, Grossie wished he could go back to his dream. Where they were talking about Bigfoot, when he could see Ponch smiling and feeling well. When everything felt normal. "Ponch?" _He couldn't have done anything...I was here. How long have I been asleep?_

The room stayed silent, aside from the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Grossie ran his fingers through his messy hair. "What happened?" He asked again, he sat back in his chair and glanced at his phone. One new message from Jon.

_'I went home. I heard you talking to Ponch. Didn't want to ruin anything.'_

Grossie sighed. He decided to respond to that later. He had more important things on his mind. Things such as, should he leave to go talk to a doctor? Or would Ponch try to kill himself again?

Ponch closed his eyes, trying to relax his breathing. A hard task with his ribs in bad shape. On top of it all when the doctor had come in last he worried about Ponch's heart, since Ponch was mentioning symptoms that could be leading up to a heart malfunction. The doctor wanted to be prepared even if it did end up being a false alarm.

It hadn't been the same doctor he'd seen not too long before. The first doctor had adjusted Ponch's IV. Ponch couldn't remember why, he had been out of it, woken up abruptly from his sleep, when he felt someone standing next to the bed. The doctor had assured him everything would be okay, but something about the doctors voice and his face seemed familiar. Alarms going off in his mind saying it wasn't okay, but he couldn't react. He was too tired.

Grossie had been asleep when the first doctor came in. He wanted to wake him up and tell him to go home, but the only thing that kept him from it was Ponch asking over and over for the doctor to leave Grossie alone and let him stay. Having someone around was comforting, almost enough to make him not want the completely give up.

The doctor worked hurriedly as if afraid Grossie's presence would keep him from doing his job. Or perhaps the doctor wasn't a doctor at all. Ponch never thought a thing of it, until a second doctor came in within ten minutes or so of the first one. He changed Ponch's IV when he noticed Ponch wasn't feeling well at all. He hadn't been sure what happened, but Ponch had told him about the other doctor. Otherwise he might not have thought to change the IV. He came in a second time to recheck Ponch, and that was when the heart monitor was brought in. He still hadn't figured out what had been slipped into the IV.

"I just want the pain to stop," Ponch said quietly, glancing over to Grossie again. He didn't have the strength to elaborate on that.

Grossie had heard those words before. _How can I stop it? What can I do? _Grossie shifted in his seat. "Ponch...I know you don't want to talk about it, but please tell me. What happened while I was sleeping?"

Ponch turned to look at Grossie, he wrapped one arm around his injured ribs hoping it'd ease the pain and make breathing easier. It seemed as though it was continuing to worse by the minute. His chest ached, he couldn't tell if it was from a figurative broken heart or an actual issue. "He tried to make you leave." Ponch got out, stopping to take a few breaths. "I..." He stopped.

"Ponch?" Grossie stood, the beeping became more irregular. He cursed under his breath.."Hang in there, I'm getting a doctor!" Grossie rushed out to find a doctor, tears filling his eyes. This had to be a dream right? A horrible nightmare. He hoped that was the case, but he knew it wasn't. He only wished he knew what happened.

oOoOo

Jon sat on the couch, a bowl of cereal in hand. He stared at the television screen across the room, nothing had been on, so he settled for watching some soap opera he didn't remember the name of. He knew Ponch would probably know it. In fact, Ponch would probably be able to tell him exactly what was going on and how the whole show started.

He wasn't sure he'd ever understand how Ponch could be so into soap operas. He sighed, shaking his head. "I wish you weren't in the hospital." He muttered. He took a bit of his cereal. His phone sat across the room, when he heard it start to vibrate against the table he assumed it was important. Afterall who would normally call at this hour? "Hello?" He skipped checking the caller ID and just swiped up.

"H-heart...heart failure-" Grossie's voice on the other end was shaken, something Jon had never heard from him. Enough to wake Jon up more.

"What!?"

"Jon, it's bad..." Grossie said, taking a breath and trying to calm himself. "Joe's already on his way over, I thought you should know. Ponch he-" Grossie bit his lip hard. "He's barely with us anymore, Jon."

Jon dropped the phone, he couldn't listen anymore. Tears filled his eyes. "Why?" He said, shaking his head. "why him? Please... please live, Ponch. I can't lose my best friend again." It was all he could get out, before he began full on sobbing, as if his friend was already dead.


	16. Chapter 16

Bobby paced in the waiting room. In chairs nearby, Jeb, Bear, Joe and Jon sat. Jeb had his head back against the wall, trying to get some sleep while he waited, but sleeping was impossible. He hardly remembered the drive over. He had woken up to Bear in his apartment saying they needed to head down to the hospital. Something about Ponch.

He slowly got up and followed Bear outside, Bear drove them there. Jeb felt like he was still back home in bed, his mind not fully processing the fact he had left as he was still mostly asleep.

Next to him, Bear sat bouncing his leg impatiently. He couldn't sit still, but didn't want to pace. He wanted to find Grossie and find out more details, but when they got to the hospital they ended up in the waiting area. The front desk receptionist wouldn't allow them to go down the halls, since she knew well enough they would get into trouble or bother a doctor.

Joe leaned forward in his seat, his arms rested against his legs, his head in his hands. He wiped tears as they fell, keeping anyone from noticing. It hadn't been that long, but sitting here waiting had felt like an eternity. What happened? When he had left last night the doctor said Ponch was doing okay. Did Ponch hurt himself again? Or was the doctor just covering up?

Jon had passed the point of tears, he felt there were no more tears to cry. He sat silently staring at the wall. His mind racing, but with how calm he looked on the outside no one would have noticed.

"Why does Grossie get to be with Ponch, but we can't?" Jon asked finally. The words hung in the air, no one having answers. Jon ran his fingers through his hair, before unlocking his phone. Staring at the screen, he couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd turned the phone on in the first place.

The picture on his home screen brought him to a more pleasant time. When he had learned it was a bad idea to leave his phone out in the open without a lock. When he had learned his friends were the type to take selfies with his phone as a joke. It hadn't been funny to him at first to come back to find 30 or something new pictures in his photo gallery. All of Jeb, Ponch and Bobby.

He'd only kept a few. Thankful for them providing updated contact photos. The home screen ended up becoming the only other pictures he saved. Tears filled his eyes, seeing the smile on Ponch's face as he gave Jeb the classic bunny ears with his fingers. _You were so happy. What happened? _Jon couldn't take looking anymore.

"This is taking too long," Bobby stated, heading for the hallway that led down to Ponch's room.

"What do you think you're doing, Nelson?" Getraer asked in a no nonsense tone.

Bobby clenched his fists at his side, trying to keep from yelling at his sergeant about how he couldn't sit still. That part was obvious. Why was Jon still sitting? How could any of them be sitting? Bobby took a deep breath. "Sergeant Getraer...sir,' he started. "Something feels off to me. I can't sit around any longer," he finished.

"Nelson-" his sentence was cut short by the sound of a scream and a doctor rushing down the hall, sliding on the freshly waxed floors.

"Somebody stop him!' a nurse yelled. "He's not a real doctor!"

Security flooded the halls, but seemed to be slipping on the floor more than catching up. Soon Grossie came into view, stopping a moment to catch his breath before shouting. "He tried to murder my friend!'

Those words sent each officer in the waiting room rushing down the across smooth floors, half of the group toppled over onto the piles of security guards.

Jon steadied himself with the wall as he finally reached Grossie. "What... what about your friend?"

Grossie looked away a moment. "Ponch. He tried to kill Ponch."

Jon didn't stay any longer to listen, he took off, seeing that fake doctor hadn't gotten far.

"Hey man, it was an accident," the man said as he slipped.

"You tried to kill my best friend! How is that an accident!?' Jon slipped forward, still holding onto the wall, as he turned to tackle the guy. Pushing off the wall helped him slide better, he ran right into the phoney doctor. Knocking him to the ground. "Alright mister, what did you do?" Jon asked, grabbing him by the shirt collar.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he replied without answer.

_Just breathe. _Jon's mind told him. _breathe in, breathe out. _Memories of all the breathing exercises and anger management counseling flashed through his mind. His friends would never believe it, or maybe they would. He used to have quite the temper when he was younger.

He couldn't let this man break him. He couldn't let this man cause him to be violent. Restraining himself was not an easy task when he was face to face with a man who had been accused of attempting to murder Ponch. Jon gritted his teeth as he spoke. "Spare me the excuses, start talking, buddy," he said in his best attempt to remain civilized.

The man panted, trying to catch his breath though the task seemed impossible. He'd been caught. This wasn't supposed to happen. "I needed the money," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I needed the money," he repeated louder. "That's all I'm sayin'. I'm not a snitch."

Bobby stood behind them, his eyes widening. "I don't believe it."

Jon turned, becoming tense at the sound of Bobby's voice. "What?"

"This guy was there at the house where-"

Bobby didn't have to finish. Jon knew. He grabbed the man by his shirt collar, slamming him against the wall. All breathing and calm exercises shoved out the door. "Why are you after Ponch!? What did he do to you!?"

The man only shook his head and chuckled. "I don't have to answer you, cop."

_Wipe that smile off your face, creep. _Jon thought. _You're going to regret it. _Even in his mind he knew this was an empty threat. Jon never wanted to risk his career by fighting someone he didn't think was worth his time. Yet here he was allowing the man to get under his skin. _I can't do this anymore. _Jon thought, turning his head to give this up to Bobby and Bear.

As soon as his head turned the man spit, the saliva from his mouth connecting with the skin of Jon's face within a split second. Jon turned, face turning red from anger. _That's it!_ His mind screamed. But the moment he turned, he hadn't had the time to prepare or notice the knife jabbed into his abdomen.

Pain shot through him, as he dropped to his knees. Everything seemed in slow motion, he saw his fellow officers running over. Their screams seemed distant. Jon's eyelids began to droop. He watched as Bear and Bobby ran past, running after the man who had taken off the moment he stabbed Jon.

_No! No! Where are you going!? _His mind screamed as tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. _Please.. please don't let me die alone. _


	17. Chapter 17

When his eyes closed, Jon was certain he had breathed his last breath. Darkness closed in around him, the voices of his friends fading away, as if they were gone. He had lost consciousness.

He remembered Getraer dropping to his knees beside him, shortly before his eyes closed. He remembered hearing him shouting at the others to get help. He remembered some of the officers running past him. Before his eyes had closed he felt loneliness wash over him. Was he still alone?

Hours had passed, but he felt as if he was drifting. His eyes closed. His mind miles away. Some place where no one could hurt him, and no one could try. Peaceful. That was what it was. At least it had been until... Jon!?

A voice. A voice so distant, yet breaking the silence.

_There's no one here, _he thought, while glancing around. Enveloped in darkness there was no one and nothing to see. He settled back down to rest. Peace once again.

Jon!?

The voice broke in again, startling the blonde man. _Where are you!? I can't see you! _Jon's mind cried, his voice betraying him, leaving him unable to speak. He reached out, his hands hitting nothing. There was nothing there. He was alone. Why couldn't the voice leave him alone!?

Jon!? It called again.

Jon began to squirm. _Go away!_

His protests didn't work. The voice grew stronger. Louder. Suddenly the voice became so clear, Jon knew exactly whose it was.. but how? _Ponch!? _He started to walk towards the sound of his voice. Stumbling in the darkness. Where could he- Jon smiled, a light. Welcoming the light in, Jon continued towards it. His eyes finally fluttering open for the first time in hours, maybe even a day.

Glancing around, he found himself in a hospital room. The lights dim, and the TV playing a soap opera. He forced a small smile. An empty bed lay to his right, up against the wall. Empty? That was strange. It looked like someone had been in it.

Turning his head he found his friend seated beside him. "I...I thought you wouldn't wake up."

Jon felt tears sting his eyes. "And I thought you were dead."

oOoOo

Bobby sat on the edge of Grossie's couch, looking through a picture album that had been sitting out when he arrived. Grossie told him to let himself in, and he'd be home soon. He'd run to the store to find dinner.

The text Bobby had sent hadn't been forgotten, and Grossie insisted they should talk. He assumed when Bobby asked if he was up it meant there was a lot on his mind. A lot that had to wait while so many other things had taken place.

Bobby sighed, continuing through the pictures. Grossie had taken up photography for a short period of time, during that time he had put together several photo albums for his fellow officers. Mostly pictures taken from parties or other get togethers. A few were taken at the station.

Seeing how happy everyone had been in these pictures, compared to how upside down life felt now was strange. Had there really been a time where everything felt normal? What even was normal at this point?

A single tear slipped down his face, as he looked through photos from the party Jim had thrown when they were welcoming Ponch to the CHP last year. "It's hard to believe you were here that long." He brushed his fingers lightly against the pages before turning. "This is all my fault.'

Lost in thoughts he hadn't noticed Grossie come in. "What's your fault?"

Bobby nearly dropped the book when he jumped from the startle of Grossie sneaking in. "Hmm?" He tried to play it cool.

Grossie took a seat. "Bobby..." He started.

Bobby looked at the man sitting across from him. There were bags under his eyes from obvious lack of sleep. _This was a bad idea. _Bobby thought, as he broke eye contact to stare at the floor. "I shouldn't have come."

Grossie shook his head. "You can't send a text asking to talk and not talk to me. I know I'm a day late, but..." Grossie stopped. "You know I'm here for you, right? You can tell me anything."

Had it been a year ago, Bobby would have disagreed. Grossie had quite the reputation for spreading everyone's secrets. Something had changed in him recently. Something almost giving him the confidence to talk to Grossie again. He knew Grossie had been keeping secrets for Ponch, and he was quite impressed nothing had gotten out still. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea?

"I know," he said finally. "I'm sorry."

Grossie remained silent a moment. Practicing what he had been telling everyone else about. How sometimes it's better to remain quiet a moment, than to start talking as soon as someone has finished. Sometimes they need more pauses to help get them through the conversation. Sometimes they just need a listening ear, and not another voice.

"I knew Ponch wanted to die. I knew before Jon...or Joe." Bobby couldn't bring himself to look up. "I knew, but I never said anything." He clenched his fists tight, resting them on his thighs.

Grossie shook his head, not wanting to believe it. How could he know?

"He wrote a few notes or whatever you want to call them, to himself.. he'd write to process his feelings instead of talking. Sarge found out because he saw one. I found out the same way... but a few days earlier. I kept the note. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought: what if he's just writing. What if he doesn't mean it? I didn't think he'd ever try anything." Tears pooled in his eyes. "And now I have to live with this!"

Grossie bit his lip. "You're not the only one." He bit his lip harder, would he be able to leave it at that? Or was he about to tell another secret? _There's no harm done. This doesn't change anything. He won't know if I said something or not. _Grossie told himself, though I'm the back of his mind he still felt unsure.

His words hadn't gone unnoticed. "W-what? What do you mean?" Bobby asked, wiping at his eyes.

oOoOo

Jon adjusted his laying position for what seemed like the millionth time. Having a hard time getting comfortable. He noted Ponch seemed to be feeling okay, despite his condition. He assumed that meant he was on some good medications right now.

Ponch had informed him they were in a room together because the doctor thought having Jon around might help Ponch's mental health.

Not a lot had changed, aside from Ponch smiling once or twice knowing Jon was alive. _I want you to stay alive too, partner. _Jon thought. His heart aching at the very idea of Ponch dying. "I saved you once, I can do it again," Jon said quietly, but apparently not quiet enough, as Ponch responded.

"Hmm?'

Jon shook his head.."I didn't say anything," he lied. He needed to buy himself time to think of a plan. How was he thinking so we'll after being stabbed? Jon smiled slightly. _Thank God for medication and good doctors. _He thought. "Ponch?"

"Yeah?' Ponch yawned.

"Can we talk about-"

"No," Ponch replied, before hearing the rest. He had made it back to bed, and kept his back to Jon or at least tried his best without hurting himself.

Jon sighed. "This is going to be a long night.'


	18. Chapter 18

Jon had slept fine, aside from the nurses coming in at all different times of the night to check on him or Ponch. The next morning he woke to the sound of a nurse leaving. "Hey, Ponch you awake?" he asked, knowing if a nurse had been in the room she'd probably woken him up.

"Yeah," Ponch replied quietly, as he rolled over, his back to Jon.

_Come on, don't shut me out. _Jon bit his lip. What could he say to bring a smile to his face? What could he say to get his best friend to start talking to him again? Was there anything? He shook his head, making attempt number one. "Remember that time you tried to hold your breath, because you said it'd keep you from crying?"

_Baker, I was ten. _Ponch rolled his eyes, not replying. _Besides how is that relevant? _

Jon sighed. _Not talking to me? _He searched his brain, to come up with attempt number two. "Remember that time when-" he didn't even get the sentence before Ponch interrupted.

"What do you want, Jon?" he rolled over to face him.

_Wow. Attempt two worked. _Jon bit his lip to try to keep from grinning. "Maybe I just want to make conversation?" _Not a lie. _

"Did it ever occur to you maybe I don't want to talk?"

"It did. But I know you wouldn't give up on me if the roles were switched. I'm not giving up on you." Jon swallowed hard. "I miss you, Ponch."

Tears filled his brown eyes, "Jon-"

"Ponch, please. Talk to me. I thought I knew everything, but it turns out I don't know the half of it."

"So you want to just sit here and talk about life?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice. Neither one of us are going anywhere." Jon shrugged. He felt thankful for the pain meds his nurses had been giving him, without he wasn't sure he'd be up to talking like this right now.

_Okay..._ "But we both talk. You never told me why you left..."

Jon nodded. _I knew you'd ask eventually...I didn't think it'd take that long. _"We moved back to my grandparents ranch in Wyoming. I wanted to say goodbye, but you left too."

"My Dad got fired, and we had to leave. I wanted to say goodbye, but you were hard to find. I walked to your house all the time even after we moved. Hoping you'd come back. We had to move to a smaller place, since we were living off Mom's income. Dad got another job...but then his health started to decline," Ponch said quickly, then stopped to take a breath.

Jon nodded. "Yeah? What happened after that?" _Finally you're talking. _

"He was on drugs Jon...he had a secret stash, and I didn't believe it was real until he showed me the day before my birthday. He died on my birthday, Jon..."

_Omg..._"He...wow. I'm sorry, Ponch."

"Every day since...I just can't help but feel like I did something wrong. If I hadn't gone out that morning...if I had come home sooner...I should have stayed and stopped him. But then how would I know if he wasn't going to do it on another day? How will I ever know now since I didn't try?" He looked down. "It was my fault."

"No...no Ponch it wasn't-"

"No you don't understand, Jon. I was a twin...my twin died shortly after birth and my dad couldn't handle the loss. Seeing me everyday hurt him more. It was _**My**_ fault! I hurt him...and I never knew...I never knew what was going on. I never knew about the twin until recently...my mom brought it up, while we were talking about Dad...on my birthday. It's hard to want to celebrate when I know that's when he died." Ponch rolled over and stopped talking, all Jon could hear was soft crying.

_What do I say!? I wasn't expecting that! _

The room remained silent, Jon left in his thoughts. What could he say? He wanted Ponch to open up, and he did. He shared a lot more in the last couple minutes than what Jon had learned in years. He had no idea...but should he talk to him still? Or give him space?

The question left unanswered, as the door swung open and someone rushed in and over to Ponch's bed. "Ponch, I haven't heard from you in ages and when I finally track you down you're in the hospital again!? I about had a heart attack when I heard everything that happened. I mean, I thought you promised me you'd stay safe? I thought you were going to keep outta trouble. I didn't realize you were going to up and join the CHP. How is that staying safe? How is getting kidnapped safe? How is getting shot at and putting your life on the line every day safe? And...you tried to kill yourself? Ponch, please...please be okay? I can't lose you."

_I thought he'd never shut up. _Jon thought, sighing in relief as the man finally became quiet, sitting beside Ponch's bed. The quiet didn't last long though.

"I heard they tried to kill you. Man, I knew I was an idiot for leaving the city! You told me you'd be okay...I knew I shouldn't have left. At least I don't have to worry about you on drugs so much anymore, I'm sure your job keeps from that happening." Carlos stopped to take another breath. "It's been years man...years and this is what i find when I get home?" more tears filled his eyes. "Talk to me."

Ponch cracked a small smile but only for a brief moment. "I didn't think you'd give me a chance."

Carlos smiled, looking down. "You're alive. Oh thank god, you're alive! And you still have your sense of humor."

Jon rolled over. _I don't think he's going to stop talking anytime soon...when do visiting hours end? _


	19. Chapter 19

_Just once it'd be nice to be happy for longer than a half hour or a day. It would be nice to latch onto happiness and never let go. . whatever happened to it? _

_Why is __everything_**_ so _**_much__ hard__er now. Living. Breathing. Thinking. I wish I could go back to years ago when I could actually do something without feeling everyone's eyes on me. **Judging**. Waiting for me to mess up... Again. I've about had it. _

_They can laugh all they want, but their shows almost over..._

_I wish I could go back in time. Back to when my laughter wasn't so...empty...so fake. So forced. Meaningless. _

_I've been crushed. My heart shattered to a million tiny pieces and they don't make the right kind of glue to fix it. It can't be fixed. It'll never be pieced together the same, when so many people have taken the pieces with them to their graves._

_I thought I was getting better. I lied to __myself__ so I wouldn't have to face the truth. That I've actually been getting worse..._

**_I _**_don't know what to do anymore. My life is a mess... falling apart around me...and I'm going down with it. I can only hang in there for so long before I take my last breath. _

_Help. Me. _

The paper was crumbled up, Bobby pulled it from the locker room. The help me had been crossed out, but not enough that it couldn't be seen. "I found this on the bench the other day." He showed Grossie. "But that's not all. After I found the note, which I assume wasn't meant to be seen. It had been crumbled up for the trash. There was another note. From Jon." He held out another piece of paper.

_Hey, I don't know who needs this. But I saw your note. I'm here for you. Come talk to me._

_ ~Jon. _

Grossie looked it over. _Jon knew? _

"He had to know. There's no way he didn't." Bobby bit his lip. "And how do we know Ponch didn't come talk to Jon?"

Grossie shrugged. "All I know is that Jon was aware of someone in this station hurting. He's probably feeling how we do right now."

Bobby nodded, but didn't respond. _You don't know how I feel. I knew he was going to do this but I did nothing! We were just starting to become friends. I blew it. _He looked away, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I messed up bad."

oOoOo

Jon laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Carlos thankfully hadn't stayed long. He had to leave for work, but not before promising to return as soon as he could. Jon did his best to enjoy the silence. "He talks a mile a minute," he joked quietly.

Ponch didn't respond. His back still to Jon, he tried to rest. No strength or desire to get up or talk...or do anything really. It had taken a lot of what little energy he had, to get up and sit beside Jon's bed. His body ached all over, he closed his eyes. Sleep could help with the pain temporarily. _Why can't I just sleep forever? _

He pressed his face down into his pillow.

"Hey, Ponch?" Jon asked, glancing over. No response. "Are you asleep?" He waited. No response. "I'm just going to assume that's a yes? Or are we not talking again?"

Ponch let out a loud enough sigh that Jon knew he was awake.

"So we're not talking? I don't know how we'll-"

Ponch cut him off. "It was hard enough talking the first time." _i don't want to hurt you, Baker. Please stop asking questions. _

"I know. Talking is hard... but we can't afford to keep things to ourselves all the time. Sure I understand if I'm not the right person to talk to, but I don't want to sit by and watch you throw away your life-"

"Jon..." Ponch started to say.

"You deserve to live, Ponch." He felt tears in his eyes, waiting for a response that never came.

Ponch didn't know what to say. _How do I deserve to live? _He wiped at the tears in his own eyes.

"I'm sorry I moved away... and that I couldn't be there for you when you needed me. Please, let me be here for you now."

"I moved too, Jon. I didn't say anything to you and then you were gone. You don't have anything to apologize for, it's not like I was there for you either during that time." _but at least I never forgot your name or about your existence. _

"Yeah... but even when we saw each other again-"

"I don't want to talk anymore, Jon." He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. To block out all the pain. The physical. The mental... everything hurt.

"Okay. When do you want to talk?" Jon tried to keep his voice calm, to hide the anger creeping in. _You've hardly spoken to me and what it's too much now!? I want my best friend back! _He took a deep breath.

The room remained silent, no response. Jon sighed.

_**L.A. December 2018 **_

Jon sat in the living room at the Getraer home. The annual CHP after work Christmas party. Joe had offered to have it his place this year, it changed each year. Jon sat beside Bobby and Grossie.

Grossie sipped a glass of eggnog, while Bobby tried to enjoy a sugar cookie. Each one of them sitting lost in thought. The party was good, but they were missing something...someone.

Bear sat across from them on another couch with Bonnie, Harlan and Jeb. In the chair beside the couch sat Getraer.

"Well, I should be getting home," Grossie said suddenly. _It's not really much of a party anyway, we've hardly spoken to each other since we got in. _He added in his mind.

The others just glanced up at him, but didn't say anything more than 'oh, goodbye.' Each of them lost in their own thoughts.

"Merry Christmas," he added before leaving.

"Merry Christmas, Grossman. Thanks for coming," Joe said standing up to walk him to the door. Grossie shook his hand before leaving, then headed out for his car.

"I wish you would start talking," Grossie said to no one, though it was directed to Ponch. "I wish I knew where you were." After Jon had gotten out of the hospital back at the beginning of April, Ponch stayed a few more days. He'd barely gotten out before he showed up at work to drop off his badge in Getraer's office, and tell him he was leaving the CHP.

When Joe asked if there was anything he could do, Ponch didn't give an answer. He didn't even take a moment to say goodbye to any of his friends.

Jon didn't believe it when he heard the news, he went to Ponch's apartment and found it empty. He went to Ponch's mom's house, she wasn't there. He'd called, Ponch wouldn't answer his phone.

Grossie had also done everything in the same order as Jon. He just couldn't believe Ponch would be gone without saying goodbye. _Just come home...that's what I want for Christmas. _Grossie thought as he drove back to his apartment.

When Grossie got up to his apartment room, he was shocked to find the door open. _Someone broke in! _He slowly walked inside, looking around. _The place looks cleaner than i remember leaving it. Did a neat freak break in? _He made his way to the bedroom, where he found a person laying on the floor, wrapped in his blanket. _Someone broke in for shelter..._ his breathing relaxed a little, but he didn't quite drop his guard yet...until. "Ponch?"

Grossie felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Relief, anger, sadness, hurt...a mixture of emotions all surfacing at once in one moment. "I thought you were dead. I really thought you were dead." He slowly sat on the floor by Ponch.

Ponch glanced over a moment. "I forgot to close the door..." He got up, trying to head for the door, having somehow not even noticed Grossie sitting on the floor. He went to the main door, finding it closed. "I guess I did close it." He turned heading back for the room.

_That's weird..._Grossie thought, watching Ponch come back in still not acknowledging Grossie's presence. He watched Ponch lay down, crawling under the blanket he'd borrowed from Grossie's bed. He took a deep breath, before reaching for his phone.

Ponch sat up suddenly. "Grossie, I'm sorry! I...I didn't mean to-" tears filled his eyes. "Your spare key was the only thing I had left...I came here. I... I've been here twice. I'm sorry I took your key..."

Grossie's eyes widened slightly. _You've been here recently before this!? _"Ponch, no it's okay. It's the spare key for a reason. It's for friends and family. You're family." He tried to keep his voice calm, despite the fact he had started to cry. _Are you okay? Where have you been? Why did you leave? Have you talked to Jon? _Many questions came to his head one after the other, but he dismissed them, knowing they weren't the questions to ask. He didn't want to start an interrogation and scare his friend off. But what could he say? "Can... can I give you a hug?" He asked finally. The only question he knew wouldn't be too upsetting or hard to answer...and he was sure Ponch was in need of a hug.

Ponch didn't say anything, he just moved closer, Grossie hugged him. It had barely been a second before Ponch began to cry. "I'm sorry...I...I didn't want to hurt anyone by being around. I was scared. I thought I was going to die."

Grossie felt awkward for a moment, he wouldn't usually offer hugs. He also wouldn't usually let someone cry on him, however in this moment he felt needed. He would do what he could to comfort his friend. If this was it, then this was it. _It's okay. I'm just glad you're alive._

It wasn't long before Ponch had cried himself to sleep. Grossie stayed with him for a while, before deciding to go make a phone call. He carefully moved, lifting Ponch up to place him on the bed. _He's a little lighter than I expected. _He noted. He hadn't taken the blanket off that Ponch wrapped himself in, but he adjusted it to keep him cozy.

Then Grossie headed for the living room, where he pulled out his phone and dialed Joe's number.

"Hello?" Joe answered on the second ring.

"Sarge, is everyone still at the party?" Grossie asked. He knew the question would be suspicious, but if he didn't ask he knew there was a higher risk of the news spreading. For once Grossie was being extremely cautious about the situation. He didn't want to overwhelm Ponch, but he wanted Joe to know he was okay. He wasn't about contacting Jon, due to the fact Jon was Ponch's best friend yet he chose Grossie's place over Jon's.

"Uh, no. They left shortly after you. Why?" Getraer frowned. _I don't know if I like this call._

"Sarge... I'm trusting you with a big secret. Don't tell anyone."

Joe nodded. "I promise." _Now I really don't like this..._

Grossie took a deep breath. "Ponch is here."

"What!?"

Grossie tried not to laugh at Getraer's response. "I found him here when I got home. He's sleeping now, and I just wanted you to know he's alive. He talked a little but not much. I'll let you know if he wants to see people. But I was hoping you'd give me some time off to be with him."

"You have vacation time and sick leave. I'll give you as much time as you need." _Take good care of him. Keep him alive. Please._

_oOoOo_

Ponch woke to the smell of food. His stomach hurt. It hurt bad. He hadn't eaten since Monday, and it was Thursday. It had become a normal habit to skip a few days in between, it was hard enough to find food when he had no money to pay for it. _It smells so good..._he thought. _but I have to go..._


	20. Chapter 20

**_Warning for self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mention of drug use, severe depression and anxiety, and mention of rape and serial killer. _**

Grossie stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs_. I hope Ponch slept well._ He thought.

He still couldn't believe Ponch had been found...or more like he had just randomly shown up, but so many questions still remained. One being why had he chosen Grossie's place over Jon's?

Grossie continued to cook, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ponch heading for the door. "You're not leaving, are you?" He asked, hoping the answer was no... though it was obvious.

Ponch jumped slightly, as he stopped, like a teenager being caught sneaking out. "Uh…"

"I'm making breakfast at least stay for that."_ Or longer. Please_. He knew he couldn't force him to stay, so instead he attempted to make the offer more inviting. "I made pancakes, sausage and eggs. I'm working on getting some more pancakes made. There's milk, chocolate milk and orange juice in the fridge. Please...at least eat something. When was the last time you ate?" Finally getting a glimpse of Ponch during the day and not hidden under a heavy blanket he quickly noticed he was a little smaller. He also noted there were fading scars and fresh scarring along his arms.

He knew he shouldn't ask questions, but he wanted to.

Ponch looked down. "Monday night…"

_But it's Thursday morning. You haven't ate in two days!? Why are you trying to leave!?_ Grossie tried to keep from showing his reaction. _Is this your new plan? Starve yourself to death? _He'd seen Ponch at his best and his worst... but he still hadn't prepared to see him like this again. "You'd better stay," he said motioning to an empty seat at the counter.

"No, Grossie it's fine. I can't-"

Grossie crossed his arms a moment, "Ponch you're my friend, and friends don't let friends leave hungry. I'm not about to let you continue starving yourself to death if that's the plan." _There I said it. _

Ponch shook his head. "Fine, I'll stay. But no questions, okay?"

Grossie nodded in agreement. He planned on keeping his end of the deal, he'd do anything if it meant he could help his friend.

As soon as Ponch sat down though he started to talk. "I know Jon's called everyday before my phone died...I'm sure he's tried calling more since. I know I should see him... but I'm scared," he said quietly. "I don't even know how to talk to him at this point" he laid his head on the counter.

Grossie hadn't been surprised to hear his friend talk, he knew Ponch well enough to know he'd talk...he hadn't expected him to sound so defeated.

"What do you mean?" Grossie asked. _I hope this doesn't count in that 'no questions' agreement. He started the conversation! _He thought as he waited.

"I told him I'd get better. I knew I couldn't, and I didn't want him to be upset, so I left."

Grossie choked on air for a moment, he coughed. "You left because you were afraid of Jon?" He took a deep breath, trying to get his air back to his lungs. _I didn't laugh. Oh please don't think I laughed. I wasn't expecting that! _Grossie's mind screamed so loud he was sure Ponch heard it.

Ponch looked up at him, a hurt expression on his face. "It's not funny, Grossie."

But he didn't.

Grossie took another breath, before responding. "I know. I didn't think-"

"Go ahead, laugh if you want," Ponch replied, getting up from his seat. "I'll see you later...maybe," he added as he walked towards the door.

"Ponch! Hey, I thought we agreed you were going to eat something," Grossie said walking after him.

Ponch waved him off. "I'm not hungry," he lied.

"Ponch-" Before he had the chance to finish, Ponch was out the door. "And just like that I ruined everything," Grossie mumbled. _I'm not letting him walk out..._he decided, rushing over to shut the stove off, then walking out the door...

oOoOo

Joe sat in his office, staring down at a report. He had read it over and over, losing his place many times. His mind somewhere else other than here at work. He looked up, feeling like someone was standing at the desk, looking up he found no one. _I'm losing my mind. _He thought shaking his head, though in reality he knew he wanted someone to be standing there. He wanted to talk to someone...but he didn't want to call someone to the office to chit chat. There was work to be done.

Glancing back to the report it hadn't been long before...

"Sarge! I messed up bad," the sound of Grossie's voice interrupted the silence.

_Oh no...no no..._Joe looked up immediately. "Grossman, what happened?" He stood, going to to close the door behind Grossie. _Give me one good reason not to yell. _

"I...he was talking I guess I blew it..." Grossie sat in the empty chair by Joe's desk. "I blew it!" He kicked the desk, then hung his head.

Joe had rarely seen Grossie angry, he tried to keep himself from yelling and only making matters worse. _What could he have done to make him go away? _Joe took a deep breath, going to ask a question when the phone rang. "I have to get that, just take a few deep breaths. We'll figure this out," he told him. He tried to stay as calm as possible, no sense in making Grossie angrier than he already was.

Grossie barely nodded.

Joe grabbed the phone. "Sergeant Getraer," he answered.

"Joe, you might want to come home."

"What? Betty, is everything alright? The kids are they okay? What happened?" He knew the kids were with their grandparents for winter break, but he couldn't help but worry something had happened there. What else would make his wife seem so upset?

"Joe I found Ponch," Betty replied.

Joe nearly dropped the phone. "You what?"

"He didn't want to come here...but he's here..."

"I'm on my way." Joe hung up, "Come on, Grossman."

Grossie looked up, "What happened?"

"Betty found Ponch, he's at the house." Joe grabbed the keys to his car. "We're going over, and you're going to apologize for whatever happened...and we're going to figure this out. We're not letting him run off again, got it?" He opened the door.

"Are you sure seeing me is a good idea?" Grossie followed.

"I'm not even sure if him seeing me is a good idea," Joe replied as he led them out to the car.

oOoOo

Joe pulled up in the driveway and headed inside, Grossie following a few inches behind. He found Ponch on the couch with a bowl of cereal. Betty sat nearby.

"Oh good, you ate breakfast," Grossie commented.

Ponch looked up, then sighed. "I thought you said-"

Betty shook her head. "I told you I was calling Joe. He's been worried about you...everyone has."

Ponch took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry you were worried...but I don't need this-"

"Frank, you've been gone for months!" Joe cut in.

"You don't understand! I shouldn't be here!" Ponch got up, he'd barely stood a second before feeling dizzy falling to the ground.

"Frank, are you okay!?" Joe knelt beside Ponch. He looked up, "he's not breathing, call an ambulance!" He got the words out then immediately started CPR, fresh tears stinging his eyes. "We just got you back, we're not losing you..." He never had the strongest relationship with Ponch, Ponch was unique... but Ponch was one of his officers and he was going to fight for him. He would do all that he could to keep him alive... but what if it wouldn't be enough?

"Where's that ambulance!?"

"I just called, they're on the way... he's going to be okay... he has to," Grossie said quickly, the words didn't feel like his own. He held onto whatever tiny sliver of hope he could find.

oOoOo

Everything hurt. His chest, his stomach... everything. He didn't need to open his eyes to know where he was, the coolness of the room and the sounds of the machines were enough to tell him he was in the hospital. Again.

_I can't afford this bill..._ He finally opened his eyes, glancing around. In the corner of the room Grossie and Joe sat on a couch, sleeping. Next to the bed sat a chair, in the chair... Jon. Reading a book, but it seemed he was falling asleep himself.

"H-how long?" Ponch got out barely above a whisper. His voice startling Jon back awake. "How long have I been here?"

"It's been almost a full day." Jon set his book aside, then scooted his chair closer, while trying to contain his excitement. His friend had been found. His friend was finally awake. Though he also felt a mixture of hurt and worry. "They found evidence of drug use-" Jon started.

Ponch looked away.

'I thought you were going to get better, Ponch," he started. "You promised me. You stopped doing drugs. We helped you get out of that years ago. I thought you stopped cutting too, or have you been hiding your scars just like you hide all the needle marks!?" Jon took a deep breath trying to calm down. "You disappeared for months and all I could think was what if he's dead? I hoped I was wrong. I hoped you'd show up one day, feeling better than you ever have. But instead you show up worse. Why didn't you talk to me? What happened? I thought we were supposed to be there for each other! And I keep finding out all these secrets you've kept. I didn't know your Dad committed suicide...I didn't know you were raped and almost killed. I didn't know you-"

"Jon, stop." Ponch felt tears in his eyes.

"Ponch-"

"No, I get it. You're mad. I'm sorry, okay? But I don't need this right now. There's a reason I didn't talk to you." Ponch rolled over, his back to Jon. "I knew you'd react like that," he added quietly.

"Of course I'm mad!" Jon stopped to take a deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, as memories began to resurface. Memories he'd tried to repress and forget about. Move on from, and act like it never hurt. All the times he'd laid in a hospital bed wishing his dad or someone would care... that he wouldn't be yelled at...he just wanted comfort. To know he would be okay...Jon bit his lip. _Maybe that's what Ponch needed too..._

"I'm just...I wish you could have talked to me. That's the biggest thing. I thought we could talk to each other...I could have been there for you," he finally said. His voice ten times calmer than it had been. He hoped his new plan worked, because he was tired of pissing off his best friend. He was tired of always saying the wrong thing or having the wrong reaction. _Why couldn't I have started this out calmly instead of yelling? I probably lost him again..._ Jon thought, the thought so painful it brought more tears to his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ponch. I'm scared."

"Yeah? Me too..." Ponch said quietly, still not looking back to his friend.

Jon wiped at his eyes. "I don't want to lose you." The tears began to fall at a steady pace, Jon tried to keep up with drying them. All he had wanted was a chance to make things right. What if this was his second chance? His chance to save his best friend instead of losing him like he had lost Gary. He was blowing it...or at least he thought he was. He knew he'd messed up several times, and he wished he could read his friends mind to know exactly what he needed in this moment. He thought he was close enough that he knew Ponch's thoughts...but now he wasn't so sure...

"I don't want to lose you either." Ponch rolled over to look at Jon. "So I guess we're even?" he tried to smile, but he couldn't.

Jon felt a small smile form from his own lips. Just seeing his friend attempt to smile was nice. "You thought you were going to lose me?" he asked quietly, hoping it was okay to ask since Ponch brought it up. He heard from Grossie though that it was easy to upset Ponch if you asked the wrong questions or had the wrong reaction to an answer. Something Jon already knew, Ponch had been like that for a while if it was a touchy subject he wasn't going to stick around to answer questions for you. Especially if he thought you would laugh at his answers.

"I was pretty sure I already did. I mean...you found out all my secrets within a span of a couple hours or a day...and that's not something I ever wanted. I figured you would be upset I didn't open up to you, because I know how you are about that." He shrugged.

Jon had always wanted to be able to talk to each other about whatever was on the others mind. So he could be there for Ponch on a particular troubling day. Something he was sure they did for the most part, aside from Jon never opening up about Gary.

"Okay, so you-"

"I knew you'd be upset. Then I knew you'd want to know more...but it's not easy to just spill everything all at one time. I also knew you'd go around asking other people to see if they knew. I knew you'd be upset if someone else knew, and I hope you understand I didn't plan on someone else finding out...but Grossie was there and saved my life that night at my apartment...he knew because he showed up. Getraer knew because he showed up. Bear knew because Grossie was staying at Bear's and I wasn't going to stay alone at my apartment. I left my apartment because it's too hard to even walk inside without thinking about...it. I left the CHP because I'm not in the right mental state to do the job. I didn't tell you any of this, because..."

Jon shook his head. "No, I understand. It's not easy to talk about everything...I never told you what really happened to Gary." Jon bit his lip. "I still don't understand why you left though. I mean...I thought you were going to get better?"

"I didn't think I could. I didn't want to upset you more if I failed, so I left. It was supposed to be easier that way...then you and everyone else wouldn't have had to see me when I got worse."

Jon nodded, "well...you're going to get better this time, right?"

Ponch took a deep breath. "I'm going to do my best. That's all I can promise you."

Jon nodded. "And I'm going to be there with you ever step of the way. I'm going to help you, and that's a promise." He looked over to the corner of the room, where Joe and Grossie sat. Grossie still fast asleep, but Joe was awake and listening. Trying to hide the fact he was awake. "The doctor said you're going to have to stay here a little while. They're going to make sure you get the proper nutrition." He smiled slightly when he saw the look on Ponch's face. "It'll be good for you Ponch," Jon continued. "Maybe we can talk about what the next step should be? Figure out a housing situation...you can stay with me for a while if you need to." Jon hoped he didn't regret that offer, he knew Ponch could just completely trash his place...but he also knew Ponch had gotten a little better at cleaning up after himself.

Ponch smiled slightly. "I'm not going to drive you crazy, am I?"

Jon shook his head. "No...I'll just be happy knowing you're alive and safe." He forced a small smile, hoping this plan worked.

_A/N: You just reached the end of Picking Up Broken Pieces! Be looking for the next story coming soon. In the next story you'll get to see Ponch recovering (also I'm going to write counseling/therapy sessions.) Also there will be something new going on in Grossie's life. :/ Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the next story. _


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